THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


SANDRA   BELLONI 

ORIGINALLY 

TCMTTJA  IN  ENGLAND 


SANDRA    BELLONI 


OBIOINALLY 


EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 


BY 

GEORGE   MEREDITH 


REVISED  EDITION 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1923 


COPYKIGHT,  1896,  BY 

GEORGE  MEREDITH 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


College 
library 


CONTENTS 


OTA.P.  PAOH 

I.      THE   POLES — PRELUDE 1 

II.      THE   EXPEDITION  BY   MOONLIGHT         ....  6 

in.    WILFRID'S  DIPLOMACY 13 

iv.    EMILIA'S  FIRST  TRIAL  IN  PUBLIC      ....  18 
V.    EMILIA  PLAYS  ON  THE  CORNET         ....  23 
VI.    EMILIA  SUPPLIES  THE  KEY  TO  HERSELF  AND  CON- 
TINUES -HER  PERFORMANCE  ON  THE  CORNET        .  31 
VII.     THREATS    OF    A    CRISIS    IN   THE   GOVERNMENT   OF 
BROOKFIELD  :  AND  OF  THE  VIRTUE  RESIDENT  IN 

A  TAIL-COAT 42 

VIII.    IN  WHICH   A  BIG  DRUM   SPEEDS  THE  MARCH  OF 

EMILIA'S  HISTORY 49 

EX.     THE  RIVAL  CLUBS 58 

X.     THE  LADIES  OF  BROOKFIELD  AT  SCHOOL  ...  82 
XI.    IN  WHICH  WE  SEE  THE  MAGNANIMITY  THAT  IS  IN 

BEER 72 

XII.      SHOWING   HOW   SENTIMENT  AND   PASSION   TAKE   THE 

DISEASE    OF   LOVE .82 

XIII.  CONTAINS   A   SHORT   DISCOURSE   ON   PUPPETS       .           .  89 

XIV.  THE   BE8WORTH   QUESTION 92 

V 


VI  CONTENTS 


CHAP. 

xr.    WILFRID'S  EXHIBITION  OF  TREACHERY  .        .        .  108 

XVI.      HOW  THE  LADIES  OF   BROOKFIELD  CAME  TO  THEIR 

RESOLVE            ........  123 

XVII.      IN   THE   WOODS  .....           .           .           .  136 

XVIII.      RETURN   OF   THE   8ENTIMEHTALI8T    INTO   BONDAGE  142 

XIX.      LIFE   AT   BROOKFIELD          ......  148 

XX.      BY  WILMING   WEIR     .           .           .           .           .           .           .  156 

XXI.      RETURN   OF   MR.   PERICLES          .....  164 

XXII.      THE   PITFALL   OF   SENTIMENT    .....  173 

XXIII.  WILFRID   DIPLOMATIZES     ......  180 

XXIV.  EMILIA  MAKES   A   MOVE     .  .  .  .  .  .188 

XXV.      A   FARCE   WITHIN   A   FARCE        .....  198 

XXVI.      SUGGESTS   THAT   THE   COMIC   MASK   HAS  SOME  KIN- 

SHIP WITH  A   SKULL        ......  209 

XXVII.      SMALL  LIFE   AT   BROOKFIELD    .....  218 

XXVIII.      GEORGIANA  FORD       .......  225 

XXIX.      FIRST   SCOURGING   OF   THE    FINE   SHADES           .           .  234 
XXX.      OF     THE    DOUBLE-MAN    IN     US,     AND     THE     GREAT 

FIGHT   WHEN   THESE   ARE   FULL-GROWN          .           .  237 

XXXI.      BE8WORTH  LAWN         .......  242 

XXXII.      THE   SUPPER         ........  256 

XXXIII.  DEFEAT   AND   FLIGHT   OF   MRS.   CHUMP     .           .           .  268 

XXXIV.  INDICATES     THE     DEGRADATION     OF     BROOKFIELD, 

TOGETHER      WITH      CERTAIN      PROCEEDINGS      OF 

THE    YACHT    ........  281 

xxxv.    MRS.  CHUMP'S  EPISTLE     .-••••  292 


CONTENTS  Vil 

CHAP.  PAOB 

XXXVI.  ANOTHER   PITFALL  OF   SENTIMENT.           .           .           .  300 

xxxvu.    EMILIA'S  FLIGHT 315 

XXXVIII.    SHE  CLINGS  TO  HER  VOICE 331 

XXXIX.    HER  VOICE  FAILS 341 

XL.    SHE  TASTES  DESPAIR 350 

XLI.    SHE  IS  FOUND 364: 

XLII.  DEFECTION  OF  MR.  PERICLES  FROM  THE  BROOK- 
FIELD  CIRCLE 367 

XLIII.  IN  WHICH  WE  SEE  WILFRID  KINDLING        .       .  380 

XLIV.  ON  THE  HIPPOGRIFF  IN  AIR:  IN  WHICH  THE 

PHILOSOPHER  HAS  A  SHORT  SPELL    .        .        .  389 

XLV.  ON  THE  HIPPOGRIFF  ON  EARTH    ....  392 

XLVI.  RAPE  OF  THE  BLACK-BRIONY  WREATH         .        .  395 

XLVII.    THE  CALL  TO  ACTION 400 

XLVIII.  CONTAINS  A  FURTHER  VIEW  OF  SENTIMENT       .  407 

XLIX.  BETWEEN  EMILIA  AND  GEORGIANA      .        .        .  412 

L.  EMILIA  BEGINS  TO  FEEL  MERTHYJt'S  POWER        .  418 

LI.  A  CHAPTER  INTERRUPTED  BT  THE  PHILOSOPHER  425 

LII.  A  FRESH  DUETT  BETWEEN  WILFRID  AND  EMILIA  427 

LIII.    ALDERMAN'S  BOUQUET 436 

LIV.  THE  EXPLOSION  AT  BROOKFIELD  ....  442 

LV.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  SENTIMENT       ....  448 

LVI.    AN  ADVANCE  AND  A  CHECK 462 

LVII.  CONTAINS  A  FURTHER  ANATOMY  OF  WILFRID     .  474 

LVIII.  FROST  ON  THE  MAY  NIGHT  .       .       .       •       .  478 

LIX.    EMILIA'S  GOOD-BYE 483 


SANDRA  BELLONI 

ORIGINALLY 

EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   POLES  — PRELUDE 

WE  are  to  make  acquaintance  with  some  serious  damsels, 
as  this  English  generation  knows  them,  and  at  a  season 
verging  upon  May.  The  ladies  of  Brookfield,  Arabella, 
Cornelia,  and  Adela  Pole,  daughters  of  a  flourishing  City- 
of -London  merchant,  had  been  told  of  a  singular  thing: 
that  in  the  neighbouring  fir-wood  a  voice  was  to  be  heard 
by  night,  so  wonderfully  sweet  and  richly  toned,  that  it 
required  their  strong  sense  to  correct  strange  imaginings 
concerning  it.  Adela  was  herself  the  chief  witness  to  its 
unearthly  sweetness,  and  her  "testimony  was  confirmed  by 
Edward  Buxley,  whose  ear  had  likewise  taken  in  the  notes, 
though  not  on  the  same  night,  as  the  pair  publicly  proved 
by  dates.  Both  declared  that  the  voice  belonged  to  an 
opera-singer  or  a  spirit.  The  ladies  of  Brookfield,  declin- 
ing the  alternative,  perceived  that  this  was  a  surprise  fur- 
nished for  their  amusement  by  the  latest  celebrity  of  their 
circle,  Mr.  Pericles,  their  father's  business  ally  and  fellow- 
speculator;  Mr.  Pericles,  the  Greek,  the  man  who  held 
millions  of  money  as  dust  compared  to  a  human  voice. 
Fortified  by  this  exquisite  supposition,  their  strong  sense 
at  once  dismissed  with  scorn  the  idea  of  anything  unearthly, 
however  divine,  being  heard  at  night,  in  the  nineteenth 
century,  within  sixteen  miles  of  London  City.  They  agreed 

I 


2  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

that  Mr.  Pericles  had  hired  some  charming  cantatrice  to 
draw  them  into  the  woods  and  delightfully  bewilder  them. 
It  was  to  be  expected  of  his  princely  nature,  they  said. 
The  Tinleys,  of  Bloxholme,  worshipped  him  for  his  wealth; 
the  ladies  of  Brookfield  assured  their  friends  that  the  fact 
of  his  being  a  money-maker  was  redeemed  in  their  sight  by 
his  devotion  to  music.  Music  was  now  the  Art  in  the 
ascendant  at  Brookfield.  The  ladies  (for  it  is  as  well  to 
know  at  once  that  they  were  not  of  that  poor  order  of  women 
who  yield  their  admiration  to  a  thing  for  its  abstract  virtue 
only)  —  the  ladies  were  scaling  society  by  the  help  of  the 
Arts.  To  this  laudable  end  sacrifices  were  now  made  to 
Euterpe  to  assist  them.  As  mere  daughters  of  a  merchant, 
they  were  compelled  to  make  their  house  not  simply  attrac- 
tive, but  enticing;  and,  seeing  that  they  liked  music,  it 
seemed  a  very  agreeable  device.  The  Tinleys  of  Bloxholme 
still  kept  to  dancing,  and  had  effectually  driven  away 
Mr.  Pericles  from  their  gatherings.  For  Mr.  Pericles  said : 
"If  that  they  will  go  'so,'  I  will  be  amused."  He  pre- 
sented a  top-like  triangular  appearance  for  one  staggering 
second.  The  Tinleys  did  not  go  'so'  at  all,  and  conse- 
quently they  lost  the  satirical  man,  and  were  called  "  the 
ballet-dancers"  by  Adela:  which  thorny  scoff  her  sisters 
permitted  to  pass  about  for  a  single  day,  and  no  more. 
The  Tinleys  were  their  match  at  epithets,  and  any  low  con- 
tention of  this  kind  obscured  for  them  the  social  summit 
they  hoped  to  attain;  the  dream  whereof  was  their  prime 
nourishment. 

That  the  Tinleys  really  were  their  match,  they  acknow- 
ledged, upon  the  admission  of  the  despicable  nature  of  the 
game.  The  Tinleys  had  winged  a  dreadful  shaft  at  them ; 
not  in  itself  to  be  dreaded,  but  that  it  struck  a  weak  point; 
it  was  a  common  shot  that  exploded  a  magazine ;  and  for  a 
time  it  quite  upset  their  social  policy,  causing  them  to  act 
like  simple  young  ladies  who  feel  things  and  resent  them. 
The  ladies  of  Brookfield  had  let  it  be  known  that,  in  their 
privacy  together,  they  were  Pole,  Polar,  and  North  Pole. 
Pole,  Polar,  and  North  Pole  were  designations  of  the  three 
shades  of  distance  which  they  could  convey  in  a  bow:  a 
form  of  salute  they  cherished  as  peculiarly  their  own ;  being 
a  method  they  had  invented  to  rebuke  the  intrusiveness  of 


THE  POLES  —  PRELUDE  3 

the  outer  world,  and  hold  away  all  strangers  until  approved 
worthy.  Even  friends  had  occasionally  to  submit  to  it  in 
a  softened  form.  Arabella,  the  eldest,  and  Adela,  the 
youngest,  alternated  Pole  and  Polar;  but  North  Pole  was 
shared  by  Cornelia  with  none.  She  was  the  fairest  of  the 
three ;  a  nobly -built  person ;  her  eyes  not  vacant  of  tender- 
ness when  she  put  off  her  armour.  In  her  war-panoply 
before  unhappy  strangers,  she  was  a  Britomart.  They 
bowed  to  an  iceberg,  which  replied  to  them  with  the  freez- 
ing indifference  of  the  floating  colossus,  when  the  Winter 
sun  despatches  a  feeble  greeting  messenger-beam  from  his 
miserable  Arctic  wallet.  The  simile  must  be  accepted  in  its 
might,  for  no  lesser  one  will  express  the  scornfulness  toward 
men  displayed  by  this  strikingly  well-favoured,  formal  lady, 
whose  heart  of  hearts  demanded  for  her  as  spouse,  a  lord, 
a  philosopher,  and  a  Christian,  in  one :  and  he  must  be  a 
member  of  Parliament.  Hence  her  isolated  air. 

Now,  when  the  ladies  of  Brookfield  heard  that  their  Pole, 
Polar,  and  North  Pole,  the  splendid  image  of  themselves, 
had  been  transformed  by  the  Tinleys,  and  defiled  by  them 
to  Pole,  Polony,  and  Maypole,  they  should  have  laughed 
contemptuously ;  but  the  terrible  nerve  of  ridicule  quivered 
in  witness  against  them,  and  was  not  to  be  stilled.  They 
could  not  understand  why  so  coarse  a  thing  should  affect 
them.  It  stuck  in  their  flesh.  It  gave  them  the  idea  that 
they  saw  their  features  hideous,  but  real,  in  a  magnifying 
mirror. 

There  was  therefore  a  feud  between  the  Tinleys  and  the 
Poles ;  and  when  Mr.  Pericles  entirely  gave  up  the  former, 
the  latter  rewarded  him  by  spreading  abroad  every  possible 
kind  interpretation  of  his  atrocious  bad  manners.  He  was 
a  Greek,  of  Parisian  gilding,  whose  Parisian  hat  flew  off  at 
a  moment's  notice,  and  whose  savage  snarl  was  heard  at  the 
slightest  vexation.  His  talk  of  renowned  prime-donne  by 
their  Christian  names,  and  the  way  that  he  would  catalogue 
emperors,  statesmen,  and  noblemen  known  to  him,  with  a 
familiar  indifference,  as  things  below  the  musical  Art,  gave 
a  distinguishing  tone  to  Brookfield,  from  which  his  French 
accentuation  of  our  tongue  did  not  detract. 

Mr.  Pericles  grimaced  bitterly  at  any  claim  to  excellence 
being  set  up  for  the  mysterious  roice  in  the  woods.  Tap- 


4  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

ping  one  forefinger  on  the  uplifted  point  of  the  other,  he 
observed  that  to  sing  abroad  in  the  night  air  of  an  English 
Spring  month  was  conclusive  of  imbecility;  and  that  no 
imbecile  sang  at  all.  Because,  to  sing,  involved  the  high- 
est accomplishment  of  which  the  human  spirit  could  boast. 
Did  the  ladies  see?  he  asked.  They  thought  they  saw  that 
he  carried  on  a  deception  admirably.  In  return,  they  in- 
quired whether  he  would  come  with  them  and  hunt  the 
voice,  saying  that  they  would  catch  it  for  him.  "  I  shall 
catch  a  cold  for  myself, "  said  Mr.  Pericles,  from  the  eleva- 
tion of  a  shrug,  feeling  that  he  was  doomed  to  go  forth. 
He  acted  reluctance  so  well  that  the  ladies  affected  a  pretty 
irnperiousness ;  and  when  at  last  he  consented  to  join  the 
party,  they  thanked  him  with  a  nicely  simulated  warmth, 
believing  that  they  had  pleased  him  thoroughly. 

Their  brother  Wilfrid  was  at  Brookfield.  Six  months 
earlier  he  had  returned  from  India,  an  invalided  cornet  of 
light  cavalry,  with  a  reputation  for  military  dash  and  the 
prospect  of  a  medal.  Then  he  was  their  heroic  brother: 
he  was  now  their  guard.  They  loved  him  tenderly,  and 
admired  him  when  it  was  necessary ;  but  they  had  exhausted 
their  own  sensations  concerning  his  deeds  of  arms,  and  fan- 
cied that  he  had  served  their  purpose.  And  besides,  valour 
is  not  an  intellectual  quality,  they  said.  They  were  ladies 
so  aspiring,  these  daughters  of  the  merchant  Samuel  Bolton 
Pole,  that,  if  Napoleon  had  been  their  brother,  their  imagi- 
nations would  have  overtopped  him  after  his  six  months' 
inaction  in  the  Tuileries.  They  would  by  that  time  have 
made  a  stepping-stone  of  the  emperor.  'Mounting '  was  the 
title  given  to  this  proceeding.  They  went  on  perpetually 
mounting.  It  is  still  a  good  way  from  the  head  of  the  tall- 
est of  men  to  the  stars ;  so  they  had  their  work  before  them ; 
but,  as  they  observed,  they  were  young.  To  be  brief,  they 
were  very  ambitious  damsels,  aiming  at  they  knew  not 
exactly  what,  save  that  it  was  something  so  wide  that  it 
had  not  a  name,  and  so  high  in  the  air  that  no  one  could 
see  it.  They  knew  assuredly  that  their  circle  did  not  please 
them.  So,  therefore,  they  were  constantly  extending  and 
refining  it :  extending  it  perhaps  for  the  purpose  of  refining 
it.  Their  susceptibilities  demanded  that  they  should  escape 
from  a  city  circle.  Having  no  mother,  they  ruled  their 


THE  POLES  —  PRELUDE  5 

father's  house  and  him,  and  were  at  least  commanders  of 
whatsoever  forces  they  could  summon  for  the  task. 

It  may  be  seen  that  they  were  sentimentalists.  That  is 
to  say,  they  supposed  that  they  enjoyed  exclusive  posses- 
sion of  the  Nice  Feelings,  and  exclusively  comprehended 
the  Fine  Shades.  Whereof  more  will  be  said;  but  in  the 
meantime  it  will  explain  their  propensity  to  mount ;  it  will 
account  for  their  irritation  at  the  material  obstructions  sur- 
rounding them ;  and  possibly  the  philosopher  will  now  have 
his  eye  on  the  source  of  that  extraordinary  sense  of  superior- 
ity to  mankind  which  was  the  crown  of  their  complacent 
brows.  Eclipsed  as  they  may  be  in  the  gross  appreciation 
of  the  world  by  other  people,  who  excel  in  this  and  that 
accomplishment,  persons  that  nourish  Nice  Feelings  and  are 
intimate  with  the  Fine  Shades  carry  their  own  test  of 
intrinsic  value. 

Nor  let  the  philosopher  venture  hastily  to  despise  them 
as  pipers  to  dilettante  life.  Such  persons  come  to  us  in 
the  order  of  civilization.  In  their  way  they  help  to  civilize 
us.  Sentimentalists  are  a  perfectly  natural  growth  of  a  fat 
soil.  Wealthy  communities  must  engender  them.  If  with 
attentive  minds  we  mark  the  origin  of  classes,  we  shall  dis- 
cern that  the  Nice  Feelings  and  the  Fine  Shades  play  a 
principal  part  in  our  human  development  and  social  history. 
I  dare  not  say  that  civilized  man  is  to  be  studied  with  the 
eye  of  a  naturalist;  but  my  vulgar  meaning  might  almost 
be  twisted  to  convey  that  our  sentimentalists  are  a  variety 
owing  their  existence  to  a  certain  prolonged  term  of  com- 
fortable feeding.  The  pig,  it  will  be  retorted,  passes  like- 
wise through  this  training.  He  does.  But  in  him  it  is  not 
combined  with  an  indigestion  of  high  German  romances. 
Here  is  so  notable  a  difference,  that  he  cannot  possibly  be 
said  to  be  of  the  family.  And  I  maintain  it  against  him, 
who  have  nevertheless  listened  attentively  to  the  eulogies 
pronounced  by  the  vendors  of  prize  bacon. 

After  thus  stating  to  you  the  vast  pretensions  of  the  ladies 
of  Brookfield,  it  would  be  unfair  to  sketch  their  portraits. 
Nothing  but  comedy  bordering  on  burlesque  could  issue 
from  the  contrast,  though  they  graced  a  drawing-room  or  a 
pew,  and  had  properly  elegant  habits  and  taste  in  dress,  and 
were  all  fair  to  the  sight.  Moreover,  Adela  had  not  long 


6  EMILIA   IN  KNQLAND 

quitted  school.  Outwardly  they  were  not  unlike  other 
young  ladies  with  wits  alert.  They  were  at  the  commence- 
ment of  their  labours  on  this  night  of  the  expedition  when 
they  were  fated  to  meet  something  greatly  confusing  to 
them. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   EXPEDITION   BY   MOONLIGHT 

HALF  of  a  rosy  mounting  full  moon  was  on  the  verge  of 
the  East  as  the  ladies,  with  attendant  cavaliers,  passed, 
humming  softly,  through  the  garden-gates.  Arabella  had, 
by  right  of  birth,  made  claim  to  Mr.  Pericles :  not  without 
an  unwontedly  fretful  remonstrance  from  Cornelia,  who  said, 
"  My  dear,  you  must  allow  that  I  have  some  talent  for  draw- 
ing men  out." 

And  Arabella  replied:  "Certainly,  dear,  you  have;  and 
I  think  I  have  some  too." 

The  gentle  altercation  lasted  half-an-hour,  but  they  got 
no  farther  than  this.  Mr.  Pericles  was  either  hopeless  of 
protecting  himself  from  such  shrewd  assailants,  or  indiffer- 
ent to  their  attacks,  for  all  his  defensive  measures  were 
against  the  cold.  He  was  muffled  in  a  superbly-mounted 
bearskin,  which  came  up  so  closely  about  his  ears  that 
Arabella  had  to  repeat  to  him  all  her  questions,  and  as  it 
were  force  a  way  for  her  voice  through  the  hide.  This  was 
provoking,  since  it  not  only  stemmed  the  natural  flow  of 
conversation,  but  prevented  her  imagination  from  decorat- 
ing the  reminiscence  of  it  subsequently  (which  was  her  pro- 
found secret  pleasure),  besides  letting  in  the  outer  world 
upon  her.  Take  it  as  an  axiom,  when  you  utter  a  senti- 
mentalism,  that  more  than  one  pair  of  ears  makes  a  cynical 
critic.  A  sentimentalism  requires  secresy.  I  can  enjoy  it, 
and  shall  treat  it  respectfully  if  you  will  confide  it  to  me 
alone ;  but  I  and  my  friends  must  laugh  at  it  outright. 

"Does  there  not  seem  a  soul  in  the  moonlight?"  for 
instance.  Arabella,  after  a  rapturous  glance  at  the  rosy 
orb,  put  it  to  Mr.  Pericles,  in  subdued  impressive  tones. 


THE  EXPEDITION   BY   MOONLIGHT  T 

She  had  to  repeat  her  phrase ;  Mr.  Pericles  then  echoing, 
with  provoking  monotony  of  tone,  "Sol?"  —  whereupon 
"  Soul ! "  was  reiterated,  somewhat  sharply :  and  Mr.  Peri- 
cles, peering  over  the  collar  of  the  bear,  with  half  an  eye, 
continued  the  sentence,  in  the  manner  of  one  sent  thereby 
farther  from  its  meaning:  — "Ze  moonlight?"  Despair- 
ing and  exasperated,  Arabella  commenced  afresh :  "  I  said, 
there  seems  a  soul  in  it;  "  and  Mr.  Pericles  assented  bluntly : 
"  In  ze  light !  "  —  which  sounded  so  little  satisfactory  that 
Arabella  explained,  "I  mean  the  aspect;"  and  having  said 
three  times  distinctly  what  she  meant,  in  answer  to  a  ter- 
rific glare  from  the  unsubmerged  whites  of  the  eyes  of  Mr. 
Pericles,  this  was  his  comment,  almost  roared  forth : 

"Sol!  you  say  so-whole  —  in  ze  moonlight  —  Luna?  Hein? 
Ze  aspect  is  of  Sol!  —  Yez." 

And  Mr.  Pericles  sank  into  his  bear  again,  while  Wilfrid 
Pole,  who  was  swinging  his  long  cavalry  legs  to  rearward, 
shouted ;  and  Mr.  Sumner,  a  rising  young  barrister,  walking 
beside  Cornelia,  smiled  a  smile  of  extreme  rigidity.  Ara- 
bella was  punished  for  claiming  rights  of  birth.  She  heard 
the  murmuring  course  of  the  dialogue  between  Cornelia  and 
Mr.  Sumner,  sufficiently  clear  to  tell  her  it  was  not  fictitious 
and  was  well  sustained,  while  her  heart  was  kept  thirsting 
for  the  key  to  it.  In  advance  were  Adela  and  Edward 
Buxley,  who  was  only  a  rich  alderman's  only  son,  but  had 
the  virtue  of  an  extraordinary  power  of  drawing  caricatures, 
and  was  therefore  useful  in  exaggerating  the  features  of 
disagreeable  people,  and  showing  how  odious  they  were: 
besides  endearing  pleasant  ones  by  exhibiting  how  comic 
they  could  be.  Gossips  averred  that  before  Mr.  Pole  had 
been  worried  by  his  daughters  into  giving  that  mighty  sum 
for  Brookfield,  Arabella  had  accepted  Edward  as  her  suitor ; 
but  for  some  reason  or  other  he  had  apparently  fallen  from 
his  high  estate.  To  tell  the  truth,  Arabella  conceived  that 
he  had  simply  obeyed  her  wishes,  while  he  knew  he  was 
naughtily  following  his  own ;  and  Adela,  without  introspec- 
tion at  all,  was  making  her  virgin  effort  at  the  caricaturing 
of  our  sex  in  his  person:  an  art  for  which  she  promised 
well. 

Out  of  the  long  black  shadows  of  the  solitary  trees  of  the 
park,  and  through  low  yellow  moonlight,  they  passed  sud- 


g  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

denly  into  the  muffled  ways  of  the  wood.  Mr.  Pericles  was» 
ineffably  provoking.  He  had  come  for  gallantry's  sake, 
and  was  not  to  be  rallied,  and  would  echo  every  question 
in  a  roar,  and  there  was  no  drawing  of  the  man  out  at  all. 
He  knocked  against  branches,  and  tripped  over  stumps,  and 
ejaculated  with  energy;  but  though  he  gave  no  need  or  help 
to  his  fair  associate,  she  thought  not  the  worse  of  him,  so 
heroic  can  women  be  toward  any  creature  that  will  permit 
himself  to  be  clothed  by  a  mystery.  At  times  the  party 
hung  still,  fancying  the  voice  aloft,  and  tnen,  after  listen- 
ing to  the  unrelieved  stillness,  they  laughed,  and  trod  the 
stiff  dry  ferns  and  soft  mosses  once  more.  At  last  they 
came  to  a  decided  halt,  when  the  proposition  to  return 
caused  Adela  to  come  up  to  Mr.  Pericles  and  say  to  him, 
"  Now,  you  must  confess !  You  have  prohibited  her  from 
singing  to-night  so  that  we  may  continue  to  be  mystified. 
I  call  this  quite  shameful  of  you!  " 

And  even  as  Mr.  Pericles  was  protesting  that  he  was  the 
most  mystified  of  the  company,  his  neck  lengthened,  and 
his  head  went  round,  and  his  ear  was  turned  to  the  sky, 
while  he  breathed  an  elaborate  "  Ah ! "  And  sure  enougn 
that  was  the  voice  of  the  woods,  cleaving  the  night  air,  not 
distant.  A  sleepy  fire  of  early  moonlight  hung  through 
the  dusky  fir-branches.  The  voice  had  the  woods  to  itself, 
and  seemed  to  fill  them  and  soar  over  them,  it  was  so  full 
and  rich,  so  light  and  sweet.  And  now,  to  add  to  the  mar- 
vel, they  heard  a  harp  accompaniment,  the  strings  being 
faintly  touched,  but  with  firm  fingers.  A  woman's  voice: 
on  that  could  be  no  dispute.  Tell  me,  what  opens  heaven 
more  flamingly  to  heart  and  mind,  than  the  voice  of  « 
woman,  pouring  clear  accordant  notes  to  the  blue  night  sky, 
that  grows  light  blue  to  the  moon?  There  was  no  flourish 
in  her  singing.  All  the  notes  were  firm,  and  rounded,  and 
sovereignly  distinct.  She  seemed  to  have  caught  the  ear 
of  Night,  and  sang  confident  of  her  charm.  It  was  a  grand 
old  Italian  air,  requiring  severity  of  tone  and  power.  Now 
into  great  mournful  hollows  the  voice  sank  steadfastly.  One 
•oft  sweep  of  the  strings  succeeded  a  deep  final  note,  and 
the  hearers  breathed  freely. 

"Stradella!  "  said  the  Greek,  folding  his  arms. 

The  ladies  were  too  deeply  impressed  to  pursue  their  play 


THE   EXPEDITION  BY  MOONLIGHT  & 

with  him.     Real  emotions  at  once  set  aside  the  semi-credence^ 
they  had  given  to  their  own  suggestions. 

"Hush!  she  will  sing  again,"  whispered  Adela.  "It  is 
the  most  delicious  contralto."  Murmurs  of  objection  to  the 
voice  being  characterized  at  all  by  any  technical  word,  or 
even  for  a  human  quality,  were  heard. 

"Let  me  find  zis  woman!"  cried  the  prose  enthusiast 
Mr.  Pericles,  imperiously,  with  his  bearskin  thrown  back 
on  his  shoulders,  and  forth  they  stepped,  following  him. 

In  the  middle  of  the  wood  there  was  a  sandy  mound,  ris- 
ing half  the  height  of  the  lesser  firs,  bounded  by  a  green- 
grown  vallum,  where  once  an  old  woman,  hopelessly  a 
witch,  had  squatted,  and  defied  the  authorities  to  make  her 
budge :  nor  could  they  accomplish  the  task  before  her  witch- 
soul  had  taken  wing  in  the  form  of  a  black  night-bird,  often 
to  be  heard  jarring  above  the  spot.  Lank  dry  weeds  and 
nettles,  and  great  lumps  of  green  and  grey  moss,  now  stood 
on  the  poor  old  creature's  place  of  habitation,  and  the  moon, 
slanting  through  the  fir-clumps,  was  scattered  on  the  blos- 
soms of  twisted  orchard-trees,  gone  wild  again.  Amid  this 
desolation,  a  dwarfed  pine,  whose  roots  were  partially  bared 
as  they  grasped  the  broken  bank  that  was  its  perch,  threw 
far  out  a  cedar-like  hand.  In  the  shadow  of  it  sat  the  fair 
singer.  A  musing  touch  of  her  harp-strings  drew  the  in- 
truders to  the  charmed  circle,  though  they  could  discern 
nothing  save  the  glimmer  of  the  instrument  and  one  set  of 
fingers  caressing  it.  How  she  viewed  their  rather  imperti- 
nent advance  toward  her,  till  they  had  ranged  in  a  half -circle 
nearer  and  nearer,  could  not  be  guessed.  She  did  not  seem 
abashed  in  any  way,  for,  having  preluded,  she  threw  herself 
into  another  song. 

The  charm  was  now  more  human,  though  scarcely  less 
powerful.  This  was  a  different  song  from  the  last :  it  was 
not  the  sculptured  music  of  the  old  school,  but  had  the  rich- 
ness and  fulness  of  passionate  blood  that  marks  the  modern 
Italian,  where  there  is  much  dallying  with  beauty  in  the 
thick  of  sweet  anguish.  Here,  at  a  certain  passage  of  the 
song,  she  gathered  herself  up  and  pitched  a  nervous  note, 
so  shrewdly  triumphing,  that,  as  her  voice  sank  to  rest,  her 
hearers  could  not  restrain  a  deep  murmur  of  admiration. 

Then  came  an  awkward  moment.     The  ladies  did  not 


10  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

wish  to  go,  and  they  were  not  justified  in  stopping.  They 
were  anxious  to  speak,  and  they  could  not  choose  the  word 
to  utter.  Mr.  Pericles  relieved  them  by  moving  forward 
and  doffing  his  hat,  at  the  same  time  begging  excuse  for  the 
rudeness  they  were  guilty  of. 

The  fair  singer  answered,  with  the  quickness  that  showed 
a  girl :  "  Oh,  stay ;  do  stay,  if  I  please  you ! "  A  singular 
form  of  speech,  it  was  thought  by  the  ladies. 

She  added :  "  I  feel  that  I  sing  better  when  I  have  people 
J»  listen  to  me." 

•"  You  find  it  more  sympathetic,  do  you  not  ?  "  remarked 
Cornelia. 

"I  don't  know,"  responded  the  unknown,  with  a  very 
honest  smile.  "  I  like  it." 

She  was  evidently  uneducated.  "  A  professional  ?  "  whis- 
pered Adela  to  Arabella.  She  wanted  little  invitation  to 
exhibit  her  skill,  at  all  events,  for,  at  a  word,  the  clear, 
bold,  but  finely  nervous  voice  was  pealing  to  a  brisker  meas- 
ure, that  would  have  been  joyous  but  for  one  fall  it  had, 
coming  unexpectedly,  without  harshness,  and  winding  up 
the  song  in  a  ringing  melancholy. 

After  a  few  bars  had  been  sung,  Mr.  Pericles  was  seen 
tapping  his  forehead  perplexedly.  The  moment  it  ended, 
he  cried  out,  in  a  tone  of  vexed  apology  for  strange  igno- 
rance :  "  But  I  know  not  it?  It  is  Italian — yes,  I  swear  it 
is  Italian !  But  —  who  then  ?  It  is  superbe  !  But  I  know 
not  it ! " 

"  It  is  mine,"  said  the  young  person. 

"  Your  music,  miss  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  I  composed  it." 

"  Permit  me  to  say,  Brava ! " 

The  ladies  instantly  petitioned  to  have  it  sung  to  them 
again ;  and  whether  or  not  they  thought  more  of  it,  or  less, 
now  that  the  authorship  was  known  to  them,  they  were 
louder  in  their  applause,  which  seemed  to  make  the  little 
person  very  happy. 

"  You  are  sure  it  pleases  you  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

They  were  very  sure  it  pleased  them.  Somehow  the  ladies 
were  growing  gracious  toward  her,  from  having  previously 
felt  too  humble,  it  may  be.  She  was  girlish  in  her  manner, 
and  not  imposing  in  her  figure.  She  would  be  a  sweet  mya- 


THE   EXPEDITION   BY   MOONLIGHT  il 

tery  to  talk  about,  they  thought :  but  she  had  ceased  to  be 
quite  the  same  mystery  to  them. 

"  I  would  go  on  singing  to  you,"  she  said ;  "  I  could  sing 
all  night  long :  but  my  people  at  the  farm  will  not  keep 
supper  for  me,  when  it's  late,  and  I  shall  have  to  go  hungry 
to  bed,  if  I  wait." 

"  Have  you  far  to  go  ?  "  ventured  Adela. 

"  Only  to  Wilson's  farm  ;  about  ten  minutes'  walk  through 
the  wood,"  she  answered  unhesitatingly. 

Arabella  wished  to  know  whether  she  came  frequently 
to  this  lovely  spot. 

"  When  it  does  not  rain,  every  evening,"  was  the  reply. 

"  You  feel  that  the  place  inspires  you  ?  "  said  Cornelia. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  come,"  she  explained.  "  The  good  old 
dame  at  the  farm  is  ill,  and  she  says  that  music  all  day  is 
enough  for  her,  and  I  must  come  here,  or  I  should  get  no 
chance  of  playing  at  all  at  night." 

"  But  surely  you  feel  an  inspiration  in  the  place,  do  you 
not  ?  "  Cornelia  persisted. 

She  looked  at  this  lady  as  if  she  had  got  a  hard  word 
given  her  to  crack,  and  muttered:  "I  feel  it  quite  warm 
here.  And  I  do  begin  to  love  the  place."  '• 

The  stately  Cornelia  fell  back  a  step. 

The  moon  was  now  a  silver  ball  on  the  edge  of  the  circle 
of  grey  blue  above  the  ring  of  firs,  and  by  the  light  falling 
on  the  strange  little  person,  as  she  stood  out  of  the  shadow 
to  muffle  up  her  harp,  it  could  be  seen  that  she  was  simply 
clad,  and  that  her  bonnet  was  not  of  the  newest  fashion. 
The  sisters  remarked  a  boot-lace  hanging  loose.  The  pecul- 
iar black  lustre  of  her  hair,  and  thickness  of  her  long  black 
eyebrows,  struck  them  likewise.  Her  harp  being  now  com- 
fortably mantled,  Cornet  Wilfrid  Pole,  who  had  been  watch- 
ing her  and  balancing  repeatedly  on  his  forward  foot,  made 
a  stride,  and  "  really  could  not  allow  her  to  carry  it  herself,"1 
and  begged  her  permission  that  he  might  assist  her.  "  It's 
very  heavy,  you  know,"  he  added. 

"  Too  heavy  for  me,"  she  said,  favouring  him  with  a  thank- 
ful smile.  "  I  have  some  one  who  does  that.  Where  is  Jim  ?  " 

She  called  for  Jim,  and  from  the  back  of  the  sandy  hillock, 
where  he  had  been  reclining,  a  broad-shouldered  rustic  came 
lurching  round  to  them. 


12  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"Now,  tafce  my  harp,  if  you  please,  and  be  as  careful  as 
possible  of  branches,  and  don't  stumble."  She  uttered  this 
as  if  she  were  giving  Jiin  his  evening  lesson :  and  then  with 
a  sudden  cry  she  laughed  out :  "  Oh !  but  I  haven't  played 
you  your  tune,  and  you  must  have  your  tune ! " 

Forthwith  she  stript  the  harp  half  bare,  and  throwing  a 
propitiatory  bright  glance  at  her  audience  on  the  other  side 
of  her,  she  commenced  thrumming  a  kind  of  Giles  Scroggins, 
native  British,  beer-begotten  air,  while  Jim  smeared  his 
mouth  and  grinned,  as  one  who  sees  his  love  dragged  into 
public  view,  and  is  not  the  man  to  be  ashamed  of  her, 
though  he  hopes  you  will  hardly  put  him  to  the  trial. 

"  This  is  his  favourite  tune,  that  he  taught  me,"  she  em- 
phasized to  the  company.  "  I  play  to  him  every  night,  for 
a  finish ;  and  then  he  takes  care  not  to  knock  my  poor  harp 
to  pieces  and  tumble  about." 

The  gentlemen  were  amused  by  the  Giles  Scroggins  air, 
which  she  had  delivered  with  a  sufficient  sense  of  its  lumping 
fun  and  leg-for-leg  jollity,  and  they  laughed  and  applauded; 
but  the  ladies  were  silent  after  the  performance,  until  the 
moment  came  to  thank  her  for  the  entertainment  she  had 
afforded  them :  and  then  they  broke  into  gentle  smiles,  and 
trusted  they  might  have  the  pleasure  of  hearing  her  another 
night 

"Oh!  just  as  often  and  as  much  as  you  like,"  she  said, 
and  first  held  her  hand  to  Arabella,  next  to  Cornelia,  and 
then  to  Adela.  She  seemed  to  be  hesitating  before  the 
gentlemen^  and  when  Wilfrid  raised  his  hat,  she  was  put  to 
some  confusion,  and  bowed  rather  awkwardly,  and  retired. 

"  Good  night,  miss ! "  called  Mr.  Pericles. 

"  Good  night,  sir ! "  she  answered  from  a  little  distance, 
and  they  could  see  that  she  was  there  emboldened  to  drop 
a  proper  curtsey  in  accompaniment. 

Then  the  ladies  stood  together  and  talked  of  her,  not  with 
absolute  enthusiasm.  For,  "Was  it  not  divine?"  said 
Adela ;  and  Cornelia  asked  her  if  she  meant  the  last  piece ; 
and,  "Oh,  gracious!  not  that!"  Adela  exclaimed.  And 
then  it  was  discovered  how  their  common  observation  had 
fastened  on  the  boot-lace ;  and  this  vagrant  article  became 
the  key  to  certain  speculations  on  her  condition  and  char- 
acter 


WILFRID'S  DIPLOMACY  13 

"I  wish  I'd  had  a  dozen  bouquets,  that's  all!"  cried 
Wilfrid.  "  She  deserved  them." 

"  Has  she  sentiment  for  what  she  sings  ?  or  is  it  only 
faculty  ?  " "  Cornelia  put  it  to  Mr.  Sumner. 

That  gentleman  faintly  defended  the  stranger  for  the  in- 
trusion of  the  bumpkin  tune.  "  She  did  it  so  well ! "  he 
said. 

"  I  complain  that  she  did  it  too  well,"  uttered  Cornelia, 
whose  use  of  emphasis  customarily  implied  that  the  argu- 
ment remained  with  her. 

Talking  in  this  manner,  and  leisurely  marching  home- 
ward, they  were  startled  to  hear  Mr.  Pericles,  who  had 
wrapped  himself  impenetrably  in  the  bear,  burst  from  his 
cogitation  suddenly  to  cry  out,  in  his  harshest  foreign 
accent :  "  Yeaz ! "  And  thereupon  he  threw  open  the  folds^ 
and  laid  out  a  forefinger,  and  delivered  himself:  "I  am 
made  my  mind !  I  send  her  abroad  to  ze  Academic  for  one, 
two,  tree  year.  She  shall  be  instructed  as  was  not  before. 
Zen  a  noise  at  La  Scala.  No  —  Paris!  No  —  London f 
She  shall  astonish  London  f airst.  —  Yez !  if  I  take  a  thea- 
tre! Yez!  if  I  buy  a  newspaper!  Yez!  if  I  pay  feefty- 
sossand  pound ! " 

His  singular  outlandish  vehemence,  and  the  sweeping 
grandeur  of  a  determination  that  lightly  assumed  the  cor- 
ruptibility of  our  Press,  sent  a  smile  circling  among  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen.  The  youth  who  had  wished  to  throw 
the  fair  unknown  a  dozen  bouquets,  caught  himself  frown- 
ing at  this  brilliant  prospect  for  her,  which  was  to  give  him 
his  opportunity. 


CHAPTER  III 
WILFRID'S  DIPLOMACY 


THE  next  morning  there  were  many  "  tra-las  "  and  "  tum- 
te-tums  "  over  the  family  breakfast-table ;  a  constant  hum- 
ming and  crying,  "I  have  it; "  and  after  two  or  three  bars, 
baffled  pauses  and  confusion  of  mind.  Mr.  Pericles  was 
almost  abusive  at  the  impotent  efforts  of  the  sisters  to  revive 


14  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

in  his  memory  that  particular  delicious  melody,  the  compo- 
sition of  the  fair  singer  herself.  At  last  he  grew  so  impatient 
as  to  arrest  their  opening  notes,  and  even  to  interrupt  their 
unmusical  consultations,  with  t  "No:  it  is  no  use;  it  is  no 
use:  no,  no,  I  say!"  But  instantly  he  would  plunge  his 
forehead  into  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and  rub  it  red,  and  work 
his  eye-brows  frightfully,  until  tender  humanity  led  the  sis- 
ters to  resume.  Adela's :  "  I'm  sure  it  began  low  down  — 
turn!  "  Cornelia's :  "  The  key-note,  I  am  positive,  was  B  flat 

—  ta! "  and  Arabella's  putting  of  these  two  assertions  to- 
gether, and  promise  to  combine  them  at  the  piano  when 
breakfast  was  at  an  end,  though  it  was  Sunday  morning, 
were  exasperating  to  the  exquisite  lover  of  music.     Mr. 
Pericles  was  really  suffering  torments.     Do  you  know  what 
it  is  to  pursue  the  sylph,  and  touch  her  flying  skirts,  think 
you  have  caught  her,  and  are  sure  of  her  —  that  she  is  yours, 
the  rapturous  evanescent  darling!  when  some  well-meaning 
earthly  wretch  interposes  and  trips  you,  and  off  she  flies 
and  leaves  you  floundering?   A  lovely  melody  nearly  grasped 
and  lost  in  this  fashion,  tries  the  temper.     Apollo  chasing 
Daphne  could  have  been  barely  polite  to  the  wood-nymphs 
in  his  path,  and  Mr.  Pericles  was  rude  to  the  daughters  of 
his  host.     Smoothing  his  clean   square   chin   and  thick 
moustache  hastily,  with  outspread  thumb  and  fingers,  he 
implored  them  to  spare  his  nerves.     Smiling  rigidly,  he 
trusted  they  would  be  merciful  to  a  sensitive  ear.     Mr.  Pole 

—  who,  as  an  Englishman,  could  not  understand  anyone 
being  so  serious  in  the  pursuit  of  a  tune  —  laughed,  and 
asked  questions,  and  almost  drove  Mr.  Pericles  mad.     On 
a,  sudden  the  Greek's  sallow  visage  lightened.     "  It  is  to 
you !  it  is  to  you !  "  he  cried,  stretching  his  finger  at  Wil- 
frid.    The  young  officer,  having  apparently  waited  till  he 
had  finished  with  his  knife  and  fork,  was  leaning  his  cheek 
on  his  fist,  looking  at  nobody,  and  quietly  humming  a  part 
of  the  air.     Mr.  Pericles  complimented  and  thanked  him. 

"  But  you  have  ear  for  music  extraordinaire ! "  he  said. 

Adela  patted  her  brother  fondly,  remarking  —  "  Yes,  when 
his  feelings  are  concerned." 

"  Will  you  repeat  zat?  "  asked  the  Greek.  " '  To-to-ri: ' 
hein?  I  lose  it.  'To-to-ru:'  bah!  I  lose  it;  'To-ri;  —  to- 
ro-  -ri-  -ro: '  it  is  no  use:  I  lose  it." 


WILFRID'S  DIPLOMACY  15 

Neither  his  persuasions,  nor  his  sneer,  "Because  it  is 
Sunday,  perhaps ! "  would  induce  Wilfrid  to  be  guilty  of 
another  attempt.  The  ladies  tried  sisterly  cajoleries  on 
him  fruitlessly,  until  Mr.  Pole,  seeing  the  desperation  of 
his  guest,  said :  "  Why  not  have  her  up  here,  toon  and  all, 
some  weekday?  Sunday  birds  won't  suit  us,  you  know. 
We've  got  a  piano  for  her  that's  good  enough  for  the  first 
of  'em,  if  money  means  anything." 

The  ladies  murmured  meekly:  "Yes,  papa." 

"I  shall  find  her  for  you  while  you  go  to  your  charch," 
said  Mr.  Pericles.  And  here  Wilfrid  was  seized  with  a 
yawn,  and  rose,  and  asked  his  eldest  sister  if  she  meant  to 
attend  the  service  that  morning. 

"Undoubtedly,"  she  answered;  and  Mr.  Pole  took  it  up: 
"  That's  our  discipline,  my  boy.  Must  set  an  example :  do 
our  duty.  All  the  house  goes  to  worship  in  the  country." 

"Why,  in  ze  country?"  queried  Mr.  Pericles. 

"  Because  "  —  Cornelia  came  to  the  rescue  of  her  sire ;  but 
her  impetuosity  was  either  unsupported  by  a  reason,  or  she 
stooped  to  fit  one  to  the  comprehension  of  the  interrogator : 
"  Oh,  because  —  do  you  know,  we  have  very  select  music  at 
our  church?" 

"We  have  a  highly-paid  organist,"  added  Arabella. 

"Recently  elected,"  said  Adela. 

"  Ah !  mon  Dieu ! "  Mr.  Pericles  ejaculated.  "  Some  music 
sound  well  at  afar  —  mellow,  you  say.  I  prefer  your  charch 
music  mellow." 

"  Won't  you  come?  "  cried  Wilfrid,  with  wonderful  brisk- 
ness. 

"No.     Mellow  for  me!" 

The  Greek's  grinders  flashed,  and  Wilfrid  turned  off  from 
him  sulkily.  He  saw  in  fancy  the  robber-Greek  prowling 
about  Wilson's  farm,  setting  snares  for  the  marvellous 
night-bird,  and  it  was  with  more  than  his  customary  inat- 
tention to  his  sisters'  refined  conversation  that  he  formed 
part  of  their  male  escort  to  the  place  of  worship. 

Mr.  Pericles  met  the  church-goers  on  their  return  in  one 
of  the  green  bowery  lanes  leading  up  to  Brookfield.  Cold 
as  he  was  to  English  scenes  and  sentiments,  his  alien  ideas 
were  not  unimpressed  by  the  picture  of  those  daintily-clad 
young  women  demurely  stepping  homeward,  while  the  air 


16  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

held  a  revel  of  skylarks,  and  the  scented  hedge-ways  quick- 
ened with  sunshine. 

"You  have  missed  a  treat! "  Arabella  greeted  him. 

"A  sermon?"  said  he. 

The  ladies  would  not  tell  him,  until  his  complacent  cyni- 
cism at  the  notion  of  his  having  missed  a  sermon,  spurred 
them  to  reveal  that  the  organ  had  been  handled  in  a  mas- 
terly manner;  and  that  the  voluntary  played  at  the  close  of 
the  service  was  most  exquisite. 

"Even  papa  was  in  raptures." 

"Very  good  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Pole.  "I'm  no  judge; 
but  you  might  listen  to  that  sort  of  playing  after  dinner." 

Mr.  Pericles  seemed  to  think  that  Vas  scarcely  a  critical 
period,  but  he  merely  grimaced,  and  inquired:  "Did  you 
see  ze  player?  " 

"Oh,  no:  they  are  hidden,"  Arabella  explained  to  him, 
"behind  a  curtain." 

"But,  what!"  shouted  the  impetuous  Greek:  "have  you 
no  curiosity?  A  woman!  And  zen,  you  saw  not  her?" 

"No,"  remarked  Cornelia,  in  the  same  aggravating  sing- 
song voice  of  utter  indifference :  "  we  don't  know  whether 
it  was  not  a  man.  Our  usual  organist  is  a  man,  I  believe." 

The  eyes  of  the  Greek  whitened  savagely,  and  he  relapsed 
into  frigid  politeness. 

Wilfrid  was  not  present  to  point  their  apprehensions. 
He  had  loitered  behind;  but  when  he  joined  them  in  the 
house  subsequently,  he  was  cheerful,  and  had  a  look  of  tri- 
umph about  him  which  made  his  sisters  say,  "  So,  you  have 
been  with  the  Copleys : "  and  he  allowed  them  to  suppose  it, 
if  they  pleased ;  the  Copleys  being  young  ladies  of  position 
in  the  neighbourhood,  of  much  higher  standing  than  the 
Tinleys,  who,  though  very  wealthy,  could  not  have  given 
their  brother  such  an  air,  the  sisters  imagined. 

At  lunch,  Wilfrid  remarked  carelessly :  "  By  the  way,  I 
met  that  little  girl  we  saw  last  night." 

"The  singer!  where?"  asked  his  sisters,  with  one  voice. 

"Coming  out  of  church." 

41  She  goes  to  church,  then! " 

This  exclamation  showed  the  heathen  they  took  her  to  be. 

"  Why,  she  played  the  organ,"  said  Wilfrid. 

*'  A.nd  how  does  she  look  by  day?    How  does  she  dress?  " 


WILFRID'S  DIPLOMACY  17 

"Oh!  very  jolly  little  woman!     Dresses  quiet  enough." 

"  She  played  the  organ !  It  was  she,  then !  An  organist ! 
Is  there  anything  approaching  to  gentility  in  her  appear- 
ance?" 

"I  —  really  I'm  no  judge,"  said  Wilfrid.  "You  had 
better  ask  Laura  Tinley.  She  was  talking  to  her  when  I 
went  up." 

The  sisters  exchanged  looks.  Presently  they  stood  to- 
gether in  consultation.  Then  they  spoke  with  their  aunt, 
Mrs.  Lupin,  and  went  to  their  papa.  The  rapacity  of  those 
Tinleys  for  anything  extraordinary  was  known  to  them,  but 
they  would  not  have  conceived  that  their  own  discovery, 
their  own  treasure,  could  have  been  caught  up  so  quickly. 
If  the  Tinleys  got  possession  of  her,  the  defection  of  Mr. 
Pericles  might  be  counted  on,  and  the  display  of  a  phe- 
nomenon would  be  lost  to  them.  They  decided  to  go  down 
to  Wilson's  farm  that  very  day,  and  forestall  their  rivals 
by  having  her  up  to  Brookfield.  The  idea  of  doing  this 
had  been  in  a  corner  of  their  minds  all  the  morning:  it 
seemed  now  the  most  sensible  plan  in  the  world.  It  was 
patronage,  in  its  right  sense.  And  they  might  be  of  great 
service  to  her,  by  giving  a  proper  elevation  and  tone  to  her 
genius ;  while  she  might  amuse  them,  and  their  guests,  and 
be  let  off,  in  fact,  as  a  firework  for  the  nonce.  Among  the 
queenly  cases  of  women  who  are  designing  to  become  the 
heads  of  a  circle  (if  I  may  use  the  term),  an  accurate 
admeasurement  of  reciprocal  advantages  can  scarcely  be 
expected  to  rank;  but  the  knowledge  that  an  act,  depend- 
ing upon  us  for  execution,  is  capable  of  benefiting  both 
sides,  will  make  the  proceeding  appear  so  unselfish,  that 
its  wisdom  is  overlooked  as  well  as  its  motives.  The  sis- 
ters felt  they  were  the  patronesses  of  the  little  obscure 
genius  whom  they  longed  for  to  illumine  their  household, 
before  they  knew  her  name.  Cornet  Wilfrid  Pole  must 
h?.ve  chuckled  mightily  to  see  them  depart  on  their  mis- 
sion. These  ladies,  who  managed  everybody,  had  them- 
selves been  very  cleverly  managed.  It  is  doubtful  whether 
the  scheme  to  surprise  and  delight  Mr.  Pericles  would  have 
actuated  the  step  they  took,  but  for  the  dread  of  seeing  the 
rapacious  Tinleys  snatch  up  their  lawful  prey.  The  Tin- 
leys  were  known  to  be_guite  capable  of  doing  so.  They 


18  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

had,  on  a  particular  occasion,  made  transparent  overtures 
to  a  celebrity  belonging  to  the  Poles,  whom  they  had  first 
met  at  Brookfield :  could  never  have  hoped  to  have  seen  had 
they  not  met  him  at  Brookfield;  and  girls  who  behaved 
in  this  way  would  do  anything.  The  resolution  was  taken 
to  steal  a  march  on  them ;  nor  did  it  seem  at  all  odd  to  peo- 
ple naturally  so  hospitable  as  the  denizens  of  Brookfield, 
that  the  stranger  of  yesterday  should  be  the  guest  of  to-day. 
Kindness  of  heart,  combined  with  a  great  scheme  in  the 
brain,  easily  put  aside  conventional  rules. 

"But  we  don't  know  her  name,"  they  said,  when  they 
had  taken  the  advice  of  the  gentlemen  on  what  they  had 
already  decided  to  do :  all  excepting  Mr.  Pericles,  for  whom 
the  surprise  was  in  store. 

"Belloni  —  Miss  Belloni,"  said  Wilfrid. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?    How  do  you  know ?  " 

"  She  told  Laura  Tinley." 

Within  five  minutes  of  the  receipt  of  this  intelligence  the 
ladies  were  on  their  way  to  Wilson's  farm. 


CHAPTER  IV 
EMILIA'S  FIRST  TRIAL  IN  PUBLIC 

THE  circle  which  the  ladies  of  Brookfield  were  designing 
to  establish  just  now,  was  of  this  receipt:  —  Celebrities, 
London  residents,  and  County  notables,  all  in  their  sever- 
ally due  proportions,  were  to  meet,  mix,  and  revolve :  the 
Celebrities  to  shine ;  the  Metropolitans  to  act  as  satellites ; 
the  County  ignoramuses  to  feel  flattered  in  knowing  that  all 
stood  forth  for  their  amusement:  they  being  the  butts  of 
the  quick-witted  Metropolitans,  whom  they  despised,  while 
the  sons  of  renown  were  encouraged  to  be  conscious  of  their 
magnanimous  superiority  over  both  sets,  for  whose  enter- 
tainment they  were  ticketed. 

This  is  a  pudding  indeed !  And  the  contemplation  of  the 
skill  and  energy  required  to  get  together  and  compound  such 
a  Brookfield  Pudding,  well-nigh  leads  one  to  think  the  work 


EMILIA'S  FIRST  TRIAL  IN  PUBLIC  19 

that  is  done  out  of  doors  a  very  inferior  business,  and,  as  it 
were,  mere  gathering  of  fuel  for  the  fire  inside.  It  was 
known  in  the  neighbourhood  that  the  ladies  were  preparing 
one ;  and  moreover  that  they  had  a  new  kind  of  plum  ;  in 
other  words,  that  they  intended  to  exhibit  a  prodigy  of 
genius,  who  would  flow  upon  the  world  from  Brookfield. 
To  announce  her  with  the  invitations,  rejecting  the  idea  of 
a  surprise  in  the  assembly,  had  been  necessary,  because  there 
was  no  other  way  of  securing  Lady  Gosstre,  who  led  the 
society  of  the  district.  The  great  lady  gave  her  promise  to 
attend :  "  though,"  as  she  said  to  Arabella,  "  you  must  know 
I  abominate  musical  parties,  and  think  them  the  most 
absurd  of  entertainments  possible;  but  if  you  have  any- 
thing to  show,  that's  another  matter." 

Two  or  three  chosen  friends  were  invited  down  before- 
hand to  inspect  the  strange  girl,  and  say  what  they  thought 
of  her;  for  the  ladies  themselves  were  perplexed.  They 
had  found  her  to  be  commonplace :  a  creature  without  ideas 
and  with  a  decided  appetite.  So  when  Tracy  Kunning- 
brook,  who  had  also  been  a  plum  in  his  day,  and  was  still  a 
poet,  said  that  she  was  exquisitely  comic,  they  were  induced 
to  take  the  humorous  view  of  the  inexplicable  side  in  the 
character  of  Miss  Belloni,  and  tried  to  laugh  at  her  eccen- 
tricities. Seeing  that  Mr.  Pericles  approved  of  her  voice  as 
a  singer,  and  Tracy  Runningbrook  let  pass  her  behaviour  as 
a  girl,  they  conceived  that  on  the  whole  they  were  safe  in 
sounding  a  trumpet  loudly.  These  gentlemen  were  connois- 
seurs, each  in  his  walk. 

Concerning  her  position  and  parentage,  nothing  was 
known.  She  had  met  Adela's  delicately-searching  touches 
in  that  direction  with  a  marked  reserve.  It  was  impossible 
to  ask  her  point-blank,  after  probing  her  with  a  dozen  sug- 
gestions, for  the  ingenuousness  of  an  indifferent  inquiry 
could  not  then  be  assumed,  so  that  Adela  was  constantly 
baffled  and  felt  that  she  must  some  day  be  excessively  '  fond 
with  her,'  which  was  annoying.  The  girl  lit  up  at  any  sign 
of  affection.  A  kind  look  gave  Summer  depths  to  her  dark 
eyes.  Otherwise  she  maintained  a  simple  discretion  and 
walked  in  her  own  path,  content  to  look  quietly  pleased  on 
everybody,  as  one  who  had  plenty  to  think  of  and  a  voice 
in  her  ear. 


20  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

Apparently  she  was  not  to  be  taught  to  understand 
'limits':  which  must  be  explained  as  a  sort  of  magnetic 
submissiveness  to  the  variations  of  Polar  caprice ;  so  that 
she  should  move  about  with  ease,  be  cheerful,  friendly,  and, 
at  a  signal,  affectionate ;  still  not  failing  to  recognize  the 
particular  nooks  where  the  family  chalk  had  traced  a  line. 
As  the  day  of  exhibition  approached,  Adela  thought  she 
would  give  her  a  lesson  in  limits.  She  ventured  to  bestow 
a  small  caress  on  the  girl,  after  a  compliment;  thinking 
that  the  compliment  would  be  a  check :  but  the  compliment 
was  passed,  and  the  caress  instantly  replied  to  with  two 
arms  and  a  tender  mouth.  At  which,  Adela  took  fright 
ind  was  glad  to  slip  away. 

At  last  the  pudding  flowed  into  the  bag. 

Emilia  was  posted  by  the  ladies  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 
Receiving  her  assurance  that  she  was  not  hungry,  they  felt 
satisfied  that  she  wanted  nothing.  Wilfrid  came  up  to  her 
to  console  her  for  her  loneliness,  until  Mr.  Pericles  had 
stationed  himself  at  the  back  of  her  chair,  and  then  Wilfrid 
nodded  languidly  and  attended  to  his  graver  duties.  Who 
would  have  imagined  that  she  had  hurt  him  ?  But  she  cer- 
tainly looked  with  greater  animation  on  Mr.  Pericles ;  and 
when  Tracy  Runningbrook  sat  down  by  her,  a  perfect  little 
carol  of  chatter  sprang  up  between  them.  These  two  pre- 
sented such  a  noticeable  contrast,  side  by  side,  that  the  ladies 
had  to  send  a  message  to  separate  them.  She  was  perhaps  a 
little  the  taller  of  the  two ;  with  smoothed  hair  that  had  the 
gloss  of  black  briony  leaves,  and  eyes  like  burning  brands  in 
a  cave ;  while  Tracy's  hair  was  red  as  blown  flame,  with  eyes 
of  a  grey-green  hue,  that  may  be  seen  glistening  over  wet 
sunset.  People,  who  knew  him,  asked:  "Who  is  she  ?"  and  it 
was  not  in  the  design  of  the  ladies  to  have  her  noted  just  yet. 

Lady  Gosstre's  exclamation  on  entering  the  room  was 
presently  heard.  "  Well !  and  where's  our  extraordinary 
genius  ?  Pray,  let  me  see  her  immediately." 

Thereat  Laura  Tinley,  with  gross  ill-breeding,  rushed  up 
to  Arabella,  who  was  receiving  her  ladyship,  and  touching 
her  arm,  as  if  privileges  were  permitted  her,  iried :  "  I'm 
dying  to  see  her.  Has  she  come  ?  " 

Arabella  embraced  the  offensive  girl  in  a  hostess's  smile, 
and  talked  flowingly  to  the  great  lady. 


EMILIA'S  FIRST  TRIAL  IN  PUBLIC  21 

Laura  Tinley  was  punished  by  being  requested  to  lead  off 
with  a  favourite  song  in  a  buzz.  She  acceded,  quite  aware 
of  the  honour  intended,  and  sat  at  the  piano,  taming  as 
much  as  possible  her  pantomime  of  one  that  would  be  audi- 
ble. Lady  Gosstre  scanned  the  room,  while  Adela,  follow- 
ing her  ladyship's  eyeglass,  named  the  guests. 

"  You  get  together  a  quaint  set  of  men,"  said  Lady  Gosstre. 

"  Women ! "  was  on  Adela's  tongue's  tip.  She  had  really 
thought  well  of  her  men.  Her  heart  sank. 

"  In  the  country  ! "  she  began. 

"  Yes,  yes ! "  went  my  lady. 

These  were  the  lessons  that  made  the  ladies  of  Brookfield 
put  a  check  upon  youth's  tendency  to  feel  delightful  satis- 
faction with  its  immediate  work,  and  speedily  conceive  a 
discontented  suspicion  of  anything  whatsoever  that  served 
them. 

Two  other  sacrifices  were  offered  at  the  piano  after  Laura 
Tinley.  Poor  victims  of  ambition,  they  arranged  their 
dresses,  smiled  at  the  leaves,  and  deliberately  gave  utter- 
ance to  the  dreadful  nonsense  of  the  laureates  of  our  draw- 
ing-rooms. Mr.  Pericles  and  Emilia  exchanged  scientific 
glances  during  the  performance.  She  was  merciless  to  in- 
different music.  Wilfrid  saw  the  glances  pass.  So,  now, 
when  Emilia  was  beckoned  to  the  piano,  she  passed  by 
Wilfrid,  and  had  a  cold  look  in  return  for  beaming  eyes. 

According  to  directions,  Emilia  sang  a  simple  Neapolitan 
air.  The  singer  was  unknown,  and  was  generally  taken  for 
another  sacrifice. 

"Come;  that's  rather  pretty,"  Lady  Gosstre  hailed  the 
close. 

"  It  is  of  ze  people  —  such  as  zat,"  assented  Mr.  Pericles. 

Adela  heard  my  lady  ask  for  the  singer's  name.  She  made 
her  way  to  her  sisters.  Adela  was  ordinarily  the  promoter, 
Cornelia  the  sifter,  and  Arabella  the  director,  of  schemes  in 
this  management.  The  ladies  had  a  moment  for  counsel 
over  a  music-book,  for  Arabella  was  about  to  do  duty  at  the 
piano.  During  a  pause,  Mr.  Pole  lifting  his  white  waistcoat 
with  the  effort,  sent  a  word  abroad,  loudly  and  heartily,  re- 
gardless of  its  guardian  aspirate,  like  a  bold-faced  hoyden 
flying  from  her  chaperon.  They  had  dreaded  it.  They  loved 
their  father,  but  declined  to  think  his  grammar  parental. 


22  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

Hushing  together,  they  agreed  that  it  had  been  a  false  move 
to  invite  Lady  Gosstre,  who  did  not  care  a  bit  for  music,  un- 
til the  success  of  their  Genius  was  assured  by  persons  who 
did.  To  suppose  that  she  would  recognize  a  Genius,  failing 
a  special  introduction,  was  absurd.  The  ladies  could  turn 
upon  aristocracy  too,  when  it  suited  them. 

Arabella  had  now  to  go  through  a  quartett.  The  fever  of 
ill-luck  had  seized  the  violin.  He  would  not  tune.  Then 
his  string  broke ;  and  while  he  was  arranging  it  the  footman 
came  up  to  Arabella.  Misfortunes,  we  know,  are  the  most 
united  family  on  earth.  The  news  brought  to  her  was  that 
a  lady  of  the  name  of  Mrs.  Chump  was  below.  Holding  her 
features  rigidly  bound,  not  to  betray  perturbation,  Arabella 
confided  the  fact  to  Cornelia,  who,  with  a  similar  mental 
and  muscular  compression,  said  instantly,  "  Manoeuvre  her." 
Adela  remarked,  "  If  you  tell  her  the  company  is  grand,  she 
will  come,  and  her  Irish  once  heard  here  will  destroy  us. 
The  very  name  of  Chump ! " 

Mrs.  Chump  was  the  wealthy  Irish  widow  of  an  alderman, 
whose  unaccountable  bad  taste  in  going  to  Ireland  for  a  wife, 
yet  filled  the  ladies  with  astonishment.  She  pretended  to  be 
in  difficulties  with  her  lawyers  ;  for  which  reason  she  strove 
to  be  perpetually  in  consultation  with  her  old  flame  and  pres- 
ent trustee  Mr.  Pole.  The  ladies  had  fought  against  her  in 
London,  and  since  their  installation  at  Brookfield  they  had 
announced  to  their  father  that  she  was  not  to  be  endured 
there.  Mr.  Pole  had  plaintively  attempted  to  dilate  on  the 
virtues  of  Martha  Chump.  "  In  her  place,"  said  the  ladies, 
and  illustrated  to  him  that  amid  a  nosegay  of  flowers  there 
was  no  fit  room  for  an  exuberant  vegetable.  The  old  man 
had  sighed  and  seemed  to  surrender.  One  thing  was  cer- 
tain :  Mrs.  Chump  had  never  been  seen  at  Brookfield.  "  She 
never  shall  be,  save  by  the  servants,"  said  the  ladies. 

Emilia,  not  unmarked  of  Mr.  Pericles,  had  gone  over  to 
Wilfrid  once  or  twice,  to  ask  him  if  haply  he  disapproved  of 
anything  she  had  done.  Mr.  Pericles  shrugged,  and  went 
"  Ah ! "  as  who  should  say,  "  This  must  be  stopped."  Adela 
now  came  to  her  and  caught  her  hand,  showering  sweet 
whispers  on  her,  and  bidding  her  go  to  her  harp  and  do  her 
best.  "  We  love  you ;  we  all  love  you ! "  was  her  parting 
instigation. 


EMILIA   PLAYS   ON   THE   COKNET  23 

The  quartett  was  abandoned.  Arabella  had  departed 
with  a  firm  countenance  to  combat  Mrs.  Chump. 

Emilia  sat  by  her  harp.  The  saloon  was  critically  still ; 
so  still  that  Adela  fancied  she  heard  a  faint  Irish  protest 
from  the  parlour.  Wilfrid  was  perhaps  the  most  critical 
auditor  present :  for  he  doubted  whether  she  could  renew 
that  singular  charm  of  her  singing  in  the  pale  lighted  woods. 
The  first  smooth  contralto  notes  took  him  captive.  He 
scarcely  believed  that  this  could  be  the  raw  girl  whom  his 
sisters  delicately  pitied. 

A  murmur  of  plaudits,  the  low  thunder  of  gathering  accla- 
mation, went  round.  Lady  Gosstre  looked  a  satisfied  "  This 
will  do."  Wilfrid  saw  Emilia's  eyes  appeal  hopefully  to  Mr. 
Pericles.  The  connoisseur  shrugged.  A  pain  lodged  visibly 
on  her  black  eyebrows.  She  gripped  her  harp,  and  her  eye- 
lids appeared  to  quiver  as  she  took  the  notes.  Again,  and 
still  singing,  she  turned  her  head  to  him.  The  eyes  of  Mr. 
Pericles  were  white,  as  if  upraised  to  intercede  for  her  with 
the  Powers  of  Harmony.  Her  voice  grew  unnerved.  On  a 
sudden  she  excited  herself  to  pitch  and  give  volume  to  that 
note  which  had  been  the  enchantment  of  the  night  in  the 
woods.  It  quavered.  One  might  have  thought  her  caught 
by  the  throat. 

Emilia  gazed  at  no  one  now.  She  rose,  without  a  word  or 
an  apology,  keeping  her  eyes  down. 

"  Fiasco ! "  cruelly  cried  Mr.  Pericles. 

That  was  better  to  her  than  the  silly  kindness  of  the 
people  who  deemed  it  well  to  encourage  her  with  applause. 
Emilia  could  not  bear  the  clapping  of  hands,  and  fled. 


CHAPTER  V 

EMILIA   PLAYS    ON   THE   CORNET 

THE  night  was  warm  under  a  slowly-floating  moon.  Full 
of  compassion  for  the  poor  girl,  who  had  moved  him  if  she 
had  failed  in  winning  the  assembly,  Wilfrid  stepped  into  the 
garden,  where  he  expected  to  find  her,  and  to  be  the  first  to 


24  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

pet  and  console  her.  Threading  the  scented  shrubs,  he  came 
upon  a  turn  in  one  of  the  alleys,  from  which  point  he  had  a 
view  of  her  figure,  as  she  stood  near  a  Portugal  laurel  on 
the  lawn.  Mr.  Pericles  was  by  her  side.  Wilfrid's  in- 
tention was  to  join  them.  A  loud  sob  from  Emilia  checked 
his  foot. 

"  You  are  cruel,"  he  heard  her  say. 

"  If  it  is  good,  I  tell  it  you ;  if  it  is  bad,  abominable,  I  tell 
it  you,  juste  ze  same,"  responded  Mr.  Pericles. 

"  The  others  did  not  think  it  very  bad." 

"  Ah !  bah ! "  Mr.  Pericles  cut  her  short. 

Had  they  been  talking  of  matters  secret  and  too  sweet, 
Wilfrid  would  have  retired,  like  a  man  of  honour.  As  it 
was,  he  continued  to  listen.  The  tears  of  his  poor  little 
friend,  moreover,  seemed  to  hold  him  there  in  the  hope  that 
he  might  afford  some  help. 

"  Yes ;  I  do  not  care  for  the  others,"  she  resumed.  "  You 
praised  me  the  night  I  first  saw  you." 

"  It  is  perhaps  zat  you  can  sing  to  z'  moon,"  returned  Mr. 
Pericles.  "  But,  what !  a  singer,  she  must  sing  in  a  house. 
To-night  it  is  warm,  to-morrow  it  is  cold.  If  you  sing 
through  a  cold,  what  noise  do  we  hear  ?  It  is  a  nose,  not  a 
voice.  It  is  a  trompet." 

Emilia,  with  a  whimpering  firmness,  replied :  "  You  said 
I  am  lazy.  I  am  not." 

"  Not  lazy,"  Mr.  Pericles  assented. 

"  Do  I  care  for  praise  from  people  who  do  not  understand 
music  ?  It  is  not  true.  I  only  like  to  please  them." 

"  Be  a  street-organ,"  Mr.  Pericles  retorted. 

"I  must  like  to  see  them  pleased  when  I  sing,"  said 
Emilia  desperately. 

"  And  you  like  ze  clap  of  ze  hands.  Yez.  It  is  quite  nat- 
ural. Yess.  You  are  a  good  child,  it  is  clear.  But,  look. 
You  are  a  voice  uncultivated,  sauvage.  You  go  wrong:  I 
hear  you:  and  dese  claps  of  zese  noodels  send  you  into 
squeaks  and  shrills,  and  false !  false !  away  you  go.  It  is 
a  gallop  ze  wrong  way." 

Here  Mr.  Pericles  attempted  the  most  horrible  reproduc- 
tion of  Emilia's  failure.  She  cried  out  as  if  she  had  been 
bitten. 

"  What  am  I  to  do  ?  "  she  asked  sadly. 


EMILIA  PLAYS   ON  THE   CORNET  25 

"Not  now,"  Mr.  Pericles  answered.  "You  live  in  Lon- 
don ?  —  at  where  ?" 

"Must  I  tell  you?" 

"  Certainly,  you  must  tell  me." 

"  But,  I  am  not  going  there ;  I  mean,  not  yet." 

"  You  are  going  to  sing  to  z*  moon  through  z'  nose.  Yez. 
For  how  long?" 

"  These  ladies  have  asked  me  to  stay  with  them.  They 
make  me  so  happy.  When  I  leave  them  —  then ! " 

Emilia  sighed. 

"  And  zen  ?  "  quoth  Mr.  Pericles. 

"  Then,  while  my  money  lasts,  I  shall  stay  in  the  country." 

"  How  much  money  ?  " 

"  How  much  money  have  I  ?  "  Emilia  frankly  and  accu- 
rately summed  up  the  condition  of  her  treasury.  "Four 
pounds  and  nineteen  shillings." 

"  Horn !  it  is  spent,  and  you  go  to  your  father  again  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"TozeoldBelloni?" 

"My  father." 

"  No ! "  cried  Mr.  Pericles,  upon  Emilia's  melancholy  utter- 
ance. He  bent  to  her  ear  and  rapidly  spoke,  in  an  undertone, 
what  seemed  to  be  a  vivid  sketch  of  a  new  course  of  fortune 
for  her.  Emilia  gave  one  joyful  outcry ;  and  now  Wilfrid 
retreated,  questioning  within  himself  whether  he  should  have 
remained  so  long.  But,  as  he  argued,  if  he  was  convinced 
that  the  rascally  Greek  fellow  meant  mischief  to  her,  was  he 
not  bound  to  employ  every  stratagem  to  be  her  safeguard  ? 
The  influence  of  Mr.  Pericles  already  exercised  over  her  was 
immense  and  mysterious.  Within  ten  minutes  she  was  sing- 
ing triumphantly  indoors.  Wilfrid  could  hear  that  her  voice 
was  firm  and  assured.  She  was  singing  the  song  of  the  woods. 
He  found  to  his  surprise  that  his  heart  dropped  under  some 
burden,  as  if  he  had  no  longer  force  to  sustain  it. 

By-and-by  some  of  the  members  of  the  company  issued 
forth.  Carriages  were  heard  on  the  gravel,  and  young  men 
in  couples,  preparing  to  light  the  ensign  of  happy  release 
from  the  ladies  (or  of  indemnification  for  their  absence,  if 
you  please),  strolled  about  the  grounds. 

"  Did  you  see  that  little  passage  between  Laura  Tinley 
and  Bella  Pole  ?  "  said  one,  and  forthwith  mimicked  them : 


26  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

"  Laura  commencing :  — '  We  must  have  her  over  to  us.'  — 
1 1  fear  we  have  pre-engaged  her.'  — '  Oh,  but  you,  dear,  will 
do  us  the  favour  to  come,  too  ? '  —  'I  fear,  dear,  our  imme- 
diate engagements  will  preclude  the  possibility.'  —  'Surely, 
dear  Miss  Pole,  we  may  hope  that  you  have  not  abandoned 
U8  f  >  —  <  That,  my  dear  Miss  Tinley,  is  out  of  the  question.' 

<May  we  not  name  a  day?'  —  'If  it  depends  upon  us, 

frankly,  we  cannot  bid  you  do  so.' " 

The  other  joined  him  in  laughter,  adding:  "'Frankly'  's 
capital !  What  absurd  creatures  women  are !  How  the 
deuce  did  you  manage  to  remember  it  all?" 

"  My  sister  was  at  my  elbow.  She  repeated  it,  word  for 
word." 

"  'Pon  my  honour,  women  are  wonderful  creatures ! " 

The  two  young  men  continued  their  remarks,  with  a  sense 
of  perfect  consistency. 

Lady  Gosstre,  as  she  was  being  conducted  to  her  carriage, 
had  pronounced  aloud  that  Emilia  was  decidedly  worth 
hearing. 

"  She's  better  worth  knowing,"  said  Tracy  Runningbrook. 
"  I  see  you  are  all  bent  on  spoiling  her.  If  you  were  to  sit 
and  talk  with  her,  you  would  perceive  that  she's  meant  for 
more  than  to  make  a  machine  of  her  throat.  What  a  throat 
it  is !  She  has  the  most  comical  notion  of  things.  I  fancy 
I'm  looking  at  the  budding  of  my  own  brain.  She's  a  born 
utist,  but  I'm  afraid  everybody's  conspiring  to  ruin  her." 

"  Surely,"  said  Adela,  "  we  shall  not  do  that,  if  we  encour- 
age her  in  her  Art." 

"  He  means  another  kind  of  art,"  said  Lady  Gosstre.  "  The 
term  'artist,'  applied  to  our  sex,  signifies  'Frenchwoman' 
with  him.  He  does  not  allow  us  to  be  anything  but  women. 
As  artists  then  we  are  largely  privileged,  I  assure  you." 

"Are  we  placed  under  a  professor  to  learn  the  art?" 
Adela  inquired,  pleased  with  the  subject  under  such  high 
patronage. 

"  Each  new  experience  is  your  accomplished  professor," 
said  Tracy.  "  One  can't  call  Cleopatra  a  professor :  she's 
but  an  illustrious  example." 

"  Imp !  you  are  corrupt."  With  which  my  lady  tapped 
farewell  on  his  shoulder.  Leaning  from  the  carriage-win- 
dow, she  said:  "I  suppose  I  shall  see  you  at  Richford? 


2T 

Merthyr  Powys  is  coming  this  week.  And  that  reminds 
me :  he  would  be  the  man  to  appreciate  your  '  born  artist.' 
Bring  her  to  me.  We  will  have  a  dinner.  I  will  despatch 
a  formal  invitation  to-morrow.  The  season's  bad  out  of 
town  for  getting  decent  people  to  meet  you.  I  will  do  my 
best." 

She  bowed  to  Adela  and  Tracy.  Mr.  Pole,  who  had 
hovered  around  the  unfamiliar  dialogue  to  attend  the  great 
lady  to  the  door,  here  came  in  for  a  recognition,  and  bowed 
obsequiously  to  the  back  of  the  carriage. 

Arabella  did  not  tell  her  sisters  what  weapon  she  had 
employed  to  effect  the  rout  of  Mrs.  Chump.  She  gravely 
remarked  that  the  woman  had  consented  to  go,  and  her  sis- 
ters thanked  her.  They  were  mystified  by  Laura's  non- 
recognition  of  Emilia,  and  only  suspected  Wilfrid  so  faintly 
that  they  were  able  to  think  they  did  not  suspect  him  at  all. 
On  the  whole,  the  evening  had  been  a  success.  It  justified 
the  ladies  in  repeating  a  well-known  Brookfield  phrase :  'We 
may  be  wrong  in  many  things,  but  never  in  our  judgement  of 
the  merits  of  any  given  person.'  In  the  case  of  Tracy  Run- 
ningbrook,  they  had  furnished  a  signal  instance  of  their 
discernment.  Him  they  had  met  at  the  house  of  a  friend  of 
the  Tinleys  (a  Colonel's  wife  distantly  connected  with  great 
houses).  The  Tinleys  laughed  at  his  flaming  head  and  him, 
but  the  ladies  of  Brookfield  had  ears  and  eyes  for  a  certain 
tone  and  style  about  him,  before  they  learnt  that  he  was 
of  the  blood  of  dukes,  and  would  be  a  famous  poet.  When 
this  was  mentioned,  after  his  departure,  they  had  made  him 
theirs,  and  the  Tinleys  had  no  chance.  Through  Tracy,  they 
achieved  their  introduction  to  Lady  Gosstre.  And  now  they 
were  to  dine  with  her.  They  did  not  say  that  this  was 
through  Emilia.  In  fact,  they  felt  a  little  that  they  had  this  eve- 
ning been  a  sort  of  background  to  their  prodigy :  which  was 
not  in  the  design.  Having  observed,  "  She  sang  deliciously," 
they  dismissed  her,  and  referred  to  dresses,  gaucheries  of 
members  of  the  company,  pretensions  here  and  there,  Lady 
Gosstre's  walk,  the  way  to  shuffle  men  and  women,  how  to 
start  themes  for  them  to  converse  upon,  and  so  forth.  Not 
Juno  and  her  Court  surveying  our  mortal  requirements  in 
divine  independence  of  fatigue,  could  have  been  more  con- 
siderate for  the  shortcomings  of  humanity.  And  while  they 


2»  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

were  legislatir^  this  and  that  for  others,  they  still  accepted 
hints  for  their  own  improvement,  as  those  who  have  Per- 
fection in  view  may  do.  Lady  Gosstre's  carriage  of  her 
shoulders,  and  general  manner,  were  admitted  to  be  worthy 
of  study.  —  "  And  did  you  notice  when  Laura  Tinley  inter- 
rupted her  conversation  with  Tracy  Runningbrook,  how 
quietly  she  replied  to  the  fact  and  nothing  else,  so  that 
Laura  had  not  another  word  ?  "  —  "  And  did  you  observe 
her  deference  to  papa,  as  host  ?  "  —  "  And  did  you  not  see, 
on  more  than  one  occasion,  with  what  consummate  ease 
she  would  turn  a  current  of  dialogue  when  it  had  gone  far 
enough  ?  "  They  had  all  noticed,  seen,  and  observed.  They 
agreed  that  there  was  a  quality  beyond  art,  beyond  genius, 
beyond  any  special  cleverness ;  and  that  was,  the  great  social 
quality  of  taking,  as  by  nature,  without  assumption,  a  queenly 
position  in  a  circle,  and  making  harmony  of  all  the  instru- 
ments to  be  found  in  it.  High  praise  of  Lady  Gosstre  en- 
sued. The  ladies  of  Brookfield  allowed  themselves  to  bow 
to  her  with  the  greater  humility,  owing  to  the  secret  sense 
they  nursed  of  overtopping  her  still  in  that  ineffable  Some- 
thing which  they  alone  possessed:  a  casket  little  people 
will  be  wise  in  not  hurrying  our  Father  Time  to  open  for 
them,  if  they  would  continue  to  enjoy  the  jewel  they  sup- 
pose it  to  contain.  Finally,  these  energetic  young  ladies 
said  their  prayers  by  the  morning  twitter  of  the  birds,  and 
went  to  their  beds,  less  from  a  desire  for  rest  than  because 
custom  demanded  it 

Three  days  later  Emilia  was  a  resident  in  the  house, 
receiving  lessons  in  demeanour  from  Cornelia,  and  in  horse- 
manship from  Wilfrid.  She  expressed  no  gratitude  for 
kindnesses  or  wonder  at  the  change  in  her  fortune,  save  that 
pleasure  sat  like  an  inextinguishable  light  on  her  face.  A 
splendid  new  harp  arrived  one  day,  ticketed,  "For  Miss 
Emilia  Belloni." 

"  He  does  not  know  I  have  a  second  Christian  name,"  was 
her  first  remark,  after  an  examination  of  the  instrument. 

" '  He '  ?  "  quoth  Adela.  "  May  it  not  have  been  a  lady's 
gift?" 

Emilia  clearly  thought  not. 

"  And  to  whom  do  you  ascribe  it  ?  n 

"  Who  sent  it  to  me  ?    Mr.  Pericles,  of  course." 


BMILIA  PLAYS   ON  THE  CORNET  29 

She  touched  the  strings  immediately,  and  sighed. 

"Are  you  discontented  with  the  tone,  child?"  asked 
A-dela. 

"  No.     I  can't  guess  what  it  cost ! " 

Surely  the  ladies  had  reason  to  think  her  commonplace ! 

She  explained  herself  better  to  Wilfrid,  when  he  returned 
to  Brookfield  after  a  short  absence.  Showing  the  harp, 
"  See  what  Mr.  Pericles  thinks  me  worth ! "  she  said. 

"  Not  more  than  that  ?  "  was  his  gallant  rejoinder.  "  Does 
it  suit  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  in  every  way." 

This  was  all  she  said  about  it. 

In  the  morning  after  breakfast,  she  sat  at  harp  or  piano, 
and  then  ran  out  to  gather  wild  flowers  and  learn  the  names 
of  trees  and  birds.  On  almost  all  occasions  Wilfrid  was  her 
companion.  He  laughed  at  the  little  sisterly  revelations  the 
ladies  confided  concerning  her  too  heartily  for  them  to  have 
any  fear  that  she  was  other  than  a  toy  to  him.  Few  women 
are  aware  with  how  much  ease  sentimental  men  can  laugh 
outwardly  at  what  is  internal  torment.  They  had  apprised 
him  of  their  wish  to  know  what  her  origin  was,  and  of  hei 
peculiar  reserve  on  that  topic :  whereat  he  assured  them  thai 
she  would  have  no  secrets  from  him.  His  conduct  of  affaira 
was  so  open  that  none  could  have  supposed  the  gallant  cor- 
net entangled  in  a  maze  of  sentiment.  For,  veritably,  this 
girl  was  the  last  sort  of  girl  to  please  his  fancy ;  and  he  saw 
not  a  little  of  fair  ladies :  by  virtue  of  his  heroic  antecedents, 
he  was  himself  well  seen  of  them.  The  gallant  cornet 
adored  delicacy  and  a  gilded  refinement.  The  female  flower 
could  not  be  too  exquisitely  cultivated  to  satisfy  him.  And 
here  he  was,  running  after  a  little  unformed  girl,  who  had 
no  care  to  conceal  the  fact  that  she  was  an  animal,  nor  any 
notion  of  the  necessity  for  doing  so !  He  had  good  reason 
to  laugh  when  his  sisters  talked  of  her.  It  was  not  a  pleas- 
ant note  which  came  from  the  gallant  cornet  then.  But, 
in  the  meadows,  or  kindly  conducting  Emilia's  horse,  he 
yielded  pretty  music.  Emilia  wore  Arabella's  riding-habit, 
Adela's  hat,  and  Cornelia's  gloves.  Politic  as  the  ladies  of 
Brookfield  were,  they  were  full  of  natural  kindness;  and 
Wilfrid,  albeit  a  diplomatist,  was  not  yet  mature  enough  to 
control  and  guide  a  very  sentimental  heart.  There  was  an 


80  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

element  of  dim  imagination  in  all  the  family :  and  it  was 
this  that  consciously  elevated  them  over  the  world  in  pros- 
pect, and  made  them  unconsciously  subject  to  what  I  must 
call  the  spell  of  the  poetic  power. 

Wilfrid  in  his  soul  wished  that  Emilia  should  date  from 
the  day  she  had  entered  Brookfield.  But  at  times  it  seemed 
to  him  that  a  knowledge  of  her  antecedents  might  relieve 
him  from  his  ridiculous  perplexity  of  feeling.  Besides 
though  her  voice  struck  emotion,  she  herself  was  unim- 
pressionable. "Cold  by  nature,"  he  said,  looking  at  the 
unkindled  fire.  She  shook  hands  like  a  boy.  If  her  fingers 
were  touched  and  retained,  they  continued  to  be  fingers  for 
as  long  as  you  pleased.  Murmurs  and  whispers  passed  by 
her  like  the  breeze.  She  appeared  also  to  have  no  enthu- 
siasm for  her  Art,  so  that  not  even  there  could  Wilfrid  find 
common  ground.  Italy,  however,  he  discovered  to  be  the 
subject  that  made  her  light  up.  Of  Italy  he  would  speak 
frequently,  and  with  much  simulated  fervour. 

"Mr.  Pericles  is  going  to  take  me  there,"  said  Emilia. 
'  He  told  me  to  keep  it  secret.     I  have  no  secrets  from  my 
friends.     I  am  to  learn  in  the  academy  at  Milan." 
"  Would  you  not  rather  let  me  take  you  ?  " 
"Not  quite."    She  shook  her  head.      "No;  because  you 
do  not  understand  music  as  he  does.     And  are  you  as  rich  ? 
I  cost  a  great  deal  of  money  even  for  eating  alone.     But  you 
will  be  glad  when  you  hear  me  when  I  come  back.     Do  you 
hear  that  nightingale  ?    It  must  be  a  nightingale." 
She  listened.     "  What  things  he  makes  us  feel ! " 
Bending  her  head,  she  walked  on  silently.     Wilfrid,  he 
knew  not  why,  had  got  a  sudden  hunger  for  all  the  days  of 
her  life.     He  caught  her  hand  and,  drawing  her  to  a  garden 
seat,  said :  "  Come ;  now  tell  me  all  about  yourself  before  I 
knew  you.     Do  you  mind  ?  " 

"I'll  tell  you  anything  you  want  to  hear,"  said  Emilia. 
ie  enjoined  her  to  begin  from  the  beginning 
Everything  about  myself  ?  "  she  asked. 
"Everything.     I  have  your  permission  to  smoke  ? " 
Emilia  smiled.     "  I  wish  I  had  some  Italian  cigars  to  give 
w-i; -^   ^er  80metimes  has  plenty  given  to  him." 

ilfrid  did  not   contemplate  his  havannah  with  less 
lavour. 


EMILIA   CONTINUES   HER  PERFORMANCE  31 

"Now,"  said  Emilia,  taking  a  last  sniff  of  the  flowers 
before  surrendering  her  nostril  to  the  invading  smoke.  She 
looked  at  the  scene  fronting  her  under  a  blue  sky  with  slow 
flocks  of  clouds :  "  How  I  like  this ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  I 
almost  forget  that  I  long  for  Italy,  here." 

Beyond  a  plot  of  flowers,  a  gold-green  meadow  dipped  to 
a  ridge  of  gorse  bordered  by  dark  firs  and  the  tips  of  greenest 
larches. 


CHAPTER  VI 

EMILIA  SUPPLIES  THE  KEY  TO  HERSELF  AND  CONTINUES  HER 
PERFORMANCE   ON   THE   CORNET 

"  MY  father  is  one  of  the  most  wonderful  of  men  in  the 
whole  world ! " 

Wilfrid  lifted  an  eyelid. 

"He  is  one  of  the  first- violins  at  the  Italian  Opera!  " 

The  gallant  cornet's  critical  appreciation  of  this  impres- 
sive announcement  was  expressed  in  a  spiral  ebullition  of 
smoke  from  his  mouth. 

"He  is  such  a  proud  man!  And  I  don't  wonder  at  that: 
he  has  reason  to  be  proud." 

Again  Wilfrid  lifted  an  eyelid,  and  there  is  no  knowing 
but  that  ideas  of  a  connection  with  foreign  Counts,  Car- 
dinals, and  Princes  passed  hopefully  through  him. 

"  Would  you  believe  that  he  is  really  the  own  nephew  of 
Andronizetti ! " 

"  Deuce  he  is !  "  said  Wilfrid,  in  a  mist.     "  Which  one?  " 

"The  composer!" 

Wilfrid  emitted  more  smoke. 

"Who  composed  —  how  I  love  him! — that  lovely  'la,  la, 
la,  la,'  and  the  'te-de,  ta-da,  te-dio,'  that  pleases  you,  out 
of  ' H  Maladetto.'  And  I  am  descended  from  him !  Let  me 
hope  I  shall  not  be  unworthy  of  him.  You  will  never  tell 
it  till  people  think  as  much  of  me,  or  nearly.  My  father 
says  I  shall  never  be  so  great,  because  I  am  half  English. 
It's  not  my  fault.  My  mother  was  English.  But  I  feel 
that  I  am  much  more  Italian  than  English.  How  I  long 


32  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

for  Italy  —  like  a  thing  underground !  My  father  did  some- 
thing against  the  Austrians,  when  he  was  a  young  man. 
Would  not  I  have  done  it?  I  am  sure  I  would  —  I  don't 
know  what.  Whenever  I  think  of  Italy,  night  or  day,  pant- 
TI  mt  goes  my  heart.  The  name  of  Italy  is  my  nightingale: 
I  feel  that  somebody  lives  that  I  love,  and  is  ill -treated 
shamefully,  crying  out  to  me  for  help.  My  father  had  to 
run  away  to  save  his  life.  He  was  fifteen  days  lying  in 
the  rice-fields  to  escape  from  the  soldiers  —  which  makes 
me  hate  a  white  coat.  There  was  my  father;  and  at  night 
he  used  to  steal  out  to  one  of  the  villages,  where  was  a  good, 
true  woman  —  so  they  are,  most,  in  Italy !  She  gave  him 
t'ood;  maize-bread  and  wine,  sometimes  meat;  sometimes 
a  bottle  of  good  wine.  When  my  father  thinks  of  it  he 
cries,  if  there  is  gin  smelling  near  him.  At  last  my  father 
had  to  stop  there  day  and  night.  Then  that  good  woman's 
daughter  came  to  him  to  keep  him  from  starving ;  she  risked 
being  stripped  naked  and  beaten  with  rods,  to  keep  my 
father  from  starving.  When  my  father  speaks  of  Sandra 
now,  it  makes  my  mother  —  she  does  not  like  it.  I  am 
named  after  her:  Emilia  Alessandra  Belloni.  'Sandra'  is 
short  for  it.  She  did  not  know  why  I  was  christened  that, 
and  will  never  call  me  anything  but  Emilia,  though  my 
father  says  Sandra,  always.  My  father  never  speaks  of 
that  dear  Sandra  herself,  except  when  he  is  tipsy.  Once  I 
used  to  wish  him  to  be  tipsy;  for  then  I  used  to  sit  at  my 
piano  while  he  talked,  and  I  made  all  his  words  go  into 
music.  One  night  I  did  it  so  well,  my  father  jumped  right 
UP  from  his  chair,  shouting  'Italia! '  and  he  caught  his  wig 
off  his  head,  and  threw  it  into  the  fire,  and  rushed  out  into 
the  street  quite  bald,  and  people  thought  him  mad. 

"  It  was  the  beginning  of  all  our  misfortunes !     My  father 

was  taken  and  locked  up  in  a  place  as  a  tipsy  man.     That 

he  has  never  forgiven  the  English  for!     It  has  made  me 

and  ray  mother  miserable  ever  since.     My  mother  is  sure 

k  is  all  since  that  night.     Do  you  know,  I  remember,  though 

ra»  so  young,  that  I  felt  the  music  — oh!  like  a  devil  in 
my  bosom?  Perhaps  it  was,  and  it  passed  out  of  me  into 
him.  Do  you  think  it  was?" 

Wilfrid  answered:  "Well,  no!  I  shouldn't  think  you 
nad  anything  to  do  with  the  devil."  Indeed,  he  was  be- 


EMILIA   CONTINUES   HER  PERFORMANCE  33 

ginning  to  think  her  one  of  the  smallest  of  frocked  female 
essences. 

"  I  lost  my  piano  through  it,"  she  went  on.  "I  could  not 
practise.  I  was  the  most  miserable  creature  in  all  the  world 
till  I  fell  in  love  with  my  harp.  My  father  would  not  play 
to  get  money.  He  sat  in  his  chair,  and  only  spoke  to  ask 
about  meal-time,  and  we  had  no  money  for  food,  except  by 
selling  everything  we  had.  Then  my  piano  went.  So  then 
I  said  to  my  mother,  I  will  advertize  to  give  lessons,  as 
other  people  do,  and  make  money  for  us  all,  myself.  So 
we  paid  money  for  a  brass-plate,  and  our  landlady's  kind 
son  put  it  up  on  the  door  for  nothing,  and  we  waited  for 
pupils  to  come.  I  used  to  pray  to  the  Virgin  that  she  would 
blessedly  send  me  pupils,  for  my  poor  mother's  complaints 
were  so  shrill  and  out  of  tune  it's  impossible  to  tell  you 
what  I  suffered.  But  by-and-by  my  father  saw  the  brass- 
plate.  He  fell  into  one  of  his  dreadful  passions.  We  had 
to  buy  him  another  wig.  His  passions  were  so  expensive : 
my  mother  used  to  say,  'There  goes  our  poor  dinner  out  of 
the  window ! '  But,  well !  he  went  to  get  employment  now. 
He  can,  always,  when  he  pleases ;  for  such  a  touch  on  the 
violin  as  my  father  has,  you  never  heard.  You  feel  your- 
self from  top  to  toe,  when  my  father  plays.  I  feel  as  if  I 
breathed  music  like  air.  One  day  came  news  from  Italy, 
all  in  the  newspaper,  of  my  father's  friends  and  old  com- 
panions shot  and  murdered  by  the  Austrians.  He  read  it 
in  the  evening,  after  we  had  a  quiet  day.  I  thought  he  did 
not  mind  it  much,  for  he  read  it  out  to  us  quite  quietly;  and 
then  he  made  me  sit  on  his  knee  and  read  it  out.  I  cried 
with  rage,  and  he  called  to  me, '  Sandra !  Peace ! '  and  began 
walking  up  and  down  the  room,  while  my  mother  got  the 
bread  and  cheese  and  spread  it  on  the  table,  for  we  were 
beginning  to  be  richer.  I  saw  my  father  take  out  his  violin. 
He  put  it  on  the  cloth  and  looked  at  it.  Then  he  took  it 
up,  and  laid  his  chin  on  it  like  a  man  full  of  love,  and  drew 
the  bow  across  just  once.  He  whirled  away  the  bow,  and 
knocked  down  our  candle,  and  in  the  darkness  I  heard  some- 
thing snap  and  break  with  a  hollow  sound.  When  I  could 
see,  he  had  broken  it,  the  neck  from  the  body  —  the  dear 
old  violin !  I  could  cry  still.  I  —  I  was  too  late  to  save  it. 
I  saw  it  broken,  and  the  empty  belly,  and  the  loose  strings ! 


34  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

It  was  murdering  a  spirit  —  that  was!  My  father  sat  in  a 
corner  one  whole  week,  moping  like  such  an  old  man!  I 
was  nearly  dead  with  my  mother's  voice.  By-and-by  we 
were  all  silent,  for  there  was  nothing  to  eat.  So  I  said  to 
my  mother,  'I  will  earn  money.'  My  mother  cried.  I  pro- 
posed to  take  a  lodging  for  myself,  all  by  myself;  go  there 
in  the  morning  and  return  at  night,  and  give  lessons,  and 
get  money  for  them.  My  landlady's  good  son  gave  me  the 
brass-plate  again.  Emilia  Alessandra  Belloni !  I  was  glad 
to  see  my  name.  I  got  two  pupils  very  quickly :  one,  an 
old  lady,  and  one,  a  young  one.  The  old  lady  —  I  mean, 
she  was  not  grey  —  wanted  a  gentleman  to  marry  her,  and 
the  landlady  told  me  —  I  mean  my  pupil  —  it  makes  me 
laugh  —  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  her  voice :  for  I  had 
been  singing.  I  earned  a  great  deal  of  money :  two  pounds 
ten  shillings  a  week.  I  could  afford  to  pay  for  lessons 
myself,  I  thought.  What  an  expense !  I  had  to  pay  ten 
shillings  for  one  lesson!  Some  have  to  pay  twenty;  but  I 
would  pay  it  to  learn  from  the  best  masters ;  —  and  I  had  to 
make  my  father  and  mother  live  on  potatoes,  and  myself 
too,  of  course.  If  you  buy  potatoes  carefully,  they  are 
extremely  cheap  things  to  live  upon,  and  make  you  forget 
your  hunger  more  than  anything  else. 

"I  suppose,"  added  Emilia,  "you  have  never  lived  upon 
potatoes  entirely?  Oh,  no!  " 

Wilfrid  gave  a  quiet  negative. 

"  But  I  was  pining  to  learn,  and  was  obliged  to  keep  them 
low.  I  could  pitch  any  notes,  and  I  was  clear:  but  I  was 
always  ornamenting,  and  what  I  want  is  to  be  an  accurate 
singer.  My  music-master  was  a  German  —  not  an  Austrian 
—  oh,  no!  — I'm  sure  he  was  not.  At  least,  I  don't  think 
[  liked  him.  He  was  harsh  with  me,  but  sometimes 
he  did  stretch  his  fingers  on  my  head,  and  turn  it  round, 
and  say  words  that  I  pretended  not  to  think  of,  though  they 
t  me  home  burning.  I  began  to  compose,  and  this  gen- 
tleman tore  up  the  whole  sheet  in  a  rage,  when  I  showed  it 
him ;  but  he  gave  me  a  dinner,  and  left  off  charging  me  ten 
hngs  -.  only  seven,  and  then  five  —  and  he  gave  me  more 
than  he  gave  others.  He  also  did  something  which  I 
don  t  know  yet  whether  I  can  thank  him  for.  He  made  me 
know  the  music  of  the  great  German.  I  used  to  listen-  I 


35 

could  not  believe  such  music  could  come  from  a  German. 
He  followed  me  about,  telling  me  I  was  his  slave.  FOP 
some  time  I  could  not  sleep.  I  laughed  at  myself  for  com- 
posing. He  was  not  an  Austrian :  but  when  he  was  alive 
he  lived  in  Vienna,  the  capital  of  Austria.  He  ate  Aus- 
trian bread,  and  why  God  gave  him  such  a  soul  of  music  I 
never  can  think !  —  Well,  by-and-by  my  father  wanted  to 
know  what  I  did  in  the  day,  and  why  they  never  had  any- 
thing but  potatoes  for  dinner.  My  mother  came  to  me,  and 
I  told  her  to  say,  I  took  walks.  My  father  said  I  was  an 
idle  girl,  and  like  my  mother  —  who  was  a  slave  to  work. 
People  are  often  unjust !  So  my  father  said  he  would  watch 
me.  I  had  to  cross  the  park  to  give  a  lesson  to  a  lady  who 
had  a  husband,  and  she  wanted  to  sing  to  him  to  keep  him 
at  home  in  the  evening.  I  used  to  pray  he  might  not  have 
much  ear  for  music.  One  day  a  gentleman  came  behind 
me  in  the  park.  He  showed  me  a  handkerchief,  and  asked 
me  if  it  was  mine.  I  felt  for  my  own  and  found  it  in  my 
pocket.  He  was  certain  I  had  dropped  it.  He  looked  in 
the  corners  for  the  name,  I  told  him  my  name — Emilia 
Alessandra  Belloni.  He  found  A.  F.  G.  there.  It  was  a 
beautiful  cambric  handkerchief,  white  and  smooth.  I  told 
him  it  must  be  a  gentleman's,  as  it  was  so  large;  but  he 
said  he  had  picked  it  up  close  by  me,  and  he  could  not  take 
it,  and  I  must ;  and  I  was  obliged  to  keep  it,  though  I  would 
much  rather  not.  Near  the  end  of  the  park  he  left  me." 

At  this  point  Wilfrid  roused  up.  "  You  met  him  the  next 
day  near  the  same  place?"  he  remarked. 

She  turned  to  him  with  astonishment  on  her  features. 
"How  did  you  know  that?  How  could  you  know? " 

"Sort  of  thing  that  generally  happens,"  said  Wilfrid. 

"Yes;  he  was  there,"  Emilia  slowly  pursued,  controlling 
her  inclination  to  question  further.  "He  had  forgotten 
about  the  handkerchief,  for  when  I  saw  him,  I  fancied  he 
might  have  found  the  owner.  We  talked  together.  He 
told  me  he  was  in  the  Army,  and  I  spoke  of  my  father's 
playing  and  my  singing.  He  was  so  fond  of  music  that  I 
promised  him  he  should  hear  us  both.  He  used  to  examine 
my  hand,  and  said  they  were  sensitive  fingers  for  playing. 
I  knew  that.  He  had  great  hopes  of  me.  He  said  he  would 
give  me  a  box  at  the  Opera,  now  and  then.  I  was  mad  with 


36  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

joy;  and  so  delighted  to  have  made  a  friend.  I  had  never 
before  made  a  rich  friend.  I  sang  to  him  in  the  park.  His 
eyes  looked  beautiful  with  pleasure.  I  know  I  enchanted 
hiro." 

"How  old  were  you  then?"  inquired  Wilfrid. 

"Sixteen.  I  can  sing  better  now,  I  know;  but  I  had 
roice  then,  and  he  felt  tLat  I  had.  I  forgot  where  we  were, 
till  people  stood  round  us,  and  he  hurried  me  away  from 
them,  and  said  I  must  sing  to  him  in  some  quiet  place.  I 
promised  to,  and  he  promised  he  would  have  dinner  for  me 
at  Richmond  Hill,  in  the  country,  and  he  would  bring 
friends  to  hear  me." 

"Go  on,"  said  Wilfrid,  rather  sharply. 

She  sighed.  "  I  only  saw  him  once  after  that.  It  was 
inch  a  miserable  day !  It  rained.  It  was  Saturday.  I  did 
not  expect  to  find  him  in  the  rain;  but  there  he  stood, 
exactly  where  he  had  given  me  the  handkerchief.  He 
imiled  kindly,  as  I  came  up.  I  dislike  gloomy  people  I 
His  face  was  always  fresh  and  nice.  His  moustache  re- 
minded me  of  Italy.  I  used  to  think  of  him  under  a  great 
warm  sky,  with  olives  and  vine-trees  and  mulberries  like 
my  father  used  to  speak  of.  I  could  have  flung  my  arms 
about  his  neck." 

"  Did  you?  "    The  cornet  gave  a  strangled  note. 

"  Oh,  no ! "  said  Emilia,  seriously.  "  But  I  told  him  how 
happy  the  thought  of  going  into  the  country  made  me,  and 
that  it  was  almost  like  going  to  Italy.  He  told  me  he  would 
take  me  to  Italy,  if  I  liked.  I  could  have  knelt  at  his  feet. 
Unfortunately  his  friends  could  not  come.  Still,  I  was  to 
go,  and  dine,  and  float  on  the  water,  plucking  flowers.  I 
determined  to  fancy  myself  in  Venice,  which  is  the  place 
my  husband  must  take  me  to,  when  I  am  married  to  him. 
I  will  give  him  my  whole  body  and  soul  for  his  love,  when 
I  am  there!" 

Here  the  cornet  was  capable  of  articulate  music  for  a 
moment,  but  it  resolved  itself  into:  "Well,  well!  Yes, 
goon!" 

"I  took  his  arm  this  time.  It  gave  me  my  first  timid 
feeling  that  I  remember,  and  he  laughed  at  me,  and  drove  it 

quite  away,  telling  me  his  name :  Augustus  Frederick 

what  was  it?  —  Augustus  Frederick  —  i*  ^gan  with  G  some- 


EMILIA   CONTINTTES   HER  PERFORMANCE  37 

thing.  0  me!  have  I  really  forgotten?  Christian  names 
are  always  easier  to  remember.  A  captain  he  was  —  a  rid- 
ing one ;  just  like  you.  I  think  you  are  all  kind !  " 

"  Extremely, "  muttered  the  ironical  cornet.  "  A.  F.  G. ;  — 
those  are  the  initials  on  the  handkerchief ! " 

"  They  are ! "  cried  Emilia.  "  It  must  have  been  his  own 
handkerchief!" 

"  You  have  achieved  the  discovery, "  quoth  Wilfrid.  "  He 
dropped  it  there  over  night,  and  found  it  just  as  you  were 
passing  in  the  morning." 

"  That  must  be  impossible, "  said  Emilia,  and  dismissed 
the  subject  forthwith,  in  a  feminine  power  of  resolve  to  be 
blind  to  it. 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  took  up  her  narrative,  "my  father  is 
sometimes  really  almost  mad.  He  does  such  things!  I 
had  walked  under  this  gentleman's  umbrella  to  the  bridge 
between  the  park  and  the  gardens  with  the  sheep,  and  beau- 
tiful flowers  in  beds.  In  an  instant  my  father  came  up 
right  in  our  faces.  He  caught  hold  of  my  left  hand.  I 
thought  he  wanted  to  shake  it,  for  he  imitates  English  ways 
at  times,  even  with  us  at  home,  and  shakes  our  hands  when 
he  comes  in.  But  he  swung  me  round.  He  stood  looking 
angrily  at  this  gentleman,  and  cried  'Yes!  yes! '  to  every 
word  he  spoke.  The  gentleman  bowed  to  me,  and  asked 
me  to  take  his  umbrella ;  but  I  was  afraid  to ;  and  my  fathei 
came  to  me, — oh,  Madonna,  think  of  what  he  did!  I  saw 
that  his  pockets  were  very  big.  He  snatched  out  potatoes, 
and  began  throwing  them  as  hard  as  he  could  throw  them 
at  the  gentleman,  and  struck  him  with  some  of  them.  He 
threw  nine  large  potatoes !  I  begged  him  to  think  of  our 
dinner;  but  he  cried  'Yes!  it  is  our  dinner  we  give  to  your 
head,  vagabond! '  in  his  English.  I  could  not  help  running 
up  to  the  gentleman  to  beg  for  his  pardon.  He  told  me  not 
to  cry,  and  put  some  potatoes  he  had  been  picking  up  all  into 
my  hand.  They  were  muddy,  but  he  wiped  them  first ;  and 
he  said  it  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  stood  fire,  and  then 
said  good-bye ;  and  I  slipped  the  potatoes  into  my  pocket 
immediately,  thankful  that  they  were  not  wasted.  My 
father  pulled  me  away  roughly  from  the  laughing  and  star- 
ing people  on  the  bridge.  But  I  knew  the  potatoes  were 
only  bruised.  Even  three  potatoes  will  prevent  you  from 


3R  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

starving.     They  were  very  fine  ones,  for  I  always  took  care 

to  buy  them  good.     When  I  reached  home " 

Wilfrid  had  risen,  and  was  yawning  with  a  desperate 
grimace.  He  bade  her  continue,  and  pitched  back  heavily 
into  his  seat. 

"When  I  reached  home  and  could  ue  alone  with  my 
mother,  she  told  me  my  father  had  been  out  watching  me 
the  day  before,  and  that  he  had  filled  his  pockets  that  morn- 
ing. She  thought  he  was  going  to  walk  out  in  the  country 
and  get  people  on  the  road  to  cook  them  for  him.  That  is 
what  he  has  done  when  he  was  miserable, — to  make  him- 
self quite  miserable,  I  think,  for  he  loves  streets  best.  Guess 
my  surprise !  My  mother  was  making  my  head  ache  with 
her  complaints,  when,  as  I  drew  out  the  potatoes  to  show 
her  we  had  some  food,  there  was  a  purse  at  the  bottom  of 
my  pocket, — a  beautiful  green  purse!  0  that  kind  gentle- 
man !  He  must  have  put  it  in  my  hand  with  the  potatoes 
that  my  father  flung  at  him !  How  I  have  cried  to  think 
that  I  may  never  sing  to  him  my  best  to  please  him !  My 
mother  and  I  opened  the  purse  eagerly.  It  had  ten  pounds 
in  paper  money,  and  five  sovereigns,  and  silver, —  I  think 
four  shillings.  We  determined  to  keep  it  a  secret;  and 
then  we  thought  of  the  best  way  of  spending  it,  and  decided 
not  to  spend  it  all,  but  to  keep  some  for  when  we  wanted  it 
dreadfully,  and  for  a  lesson  or  two  for  me  now  and  then, 
and  a  music-score,  and  perhaps  a  good  violin  for  my  father, 
ind  new  strings  for  him  and  me,  and  meat  dinners  now  and 
then,  and  perhaps  a  day  in  the  country :  for  that  was  always 
one  of  my  dreams  as  I  watched  the  clouds  flying  over  Lon- 
don. They  seemed  to  be  always  coming  from  happy  places 
and  going  to  happy  places,  never  stopping  where  I  was !  I 
cannot  be  sorrowful  long.  You  know  that  song  of  mine 
that  you  like  so  much  —  my  own  composing?  It  was  a  song 
about  that  kind  gentleman.  I  got  words  to  suit  it  as  well 
as  I  could,  from  a  penny  paper,  but  they  don't  mean  any- 
thing that  I  mean,  and  they  are  only  words." 

She  did  not  appear  to  hear  the  gallant  cornet's  denial 
that  he  cared  particularly  for  that  song. 

"What  I  meant  was,— that  gentleman  speaks  — 'I  have 
fought  for  Italy ;  I  am  an  English  hero  and  have  fought  for 
Italy,  because  of  an  Italian  child;  but  now  I  am  wounded 


EMILIA   CONTINUES   HER   PERFORMANCE  39 

and  a  prisoner.  When  you  shoot  me,  cruel  Austrians,  I 
shall  hear  her  voice  and  think  of  nothing  else,  so  you  cannot 
hurt  me.'" 

Emilia  turned  spitefully  on  herself  at  this  close.  "  How 
I  spoil  it !  My  words  are  always  stupid,  when  I  feel.  — 
Well,  now  my  mother  and  I  were  quite  peaceful,  and  my 
father  was  better  fed.  One  night  he  brought  home  a  Jew 
gentleman,  beautifully  dressed,  with  diamonds  all  over  him. 
He  sparkled  like  the  Christmas  cakes  in  pastry  cooks'  win- 
dows. I  sang  to  him,  and  he  made  quite  a  noise  about  me. 
But  the  man  made  me  so  uncomfortable,  touching  my  shoul- 
ders, and  I  could  not  bear  his  hands,  even  when  he  was 
praising  me.  I  sang  to  him  till  the  landlady  made  me 
leave  off,  because  of  the  other  lodgers  who  wanted  to  sleep. 
He  came  every  evening ;  and  then  said  I  should  sing  at  a 
concert.  It  turned  out  to  be  a  public-house,  and  my  father 
would  not  let  me  go ;  but  I  was  sorry ;  for  in  public  the  man 
could  not  touch  me  as  he  did.  It  damped  the  voice !  " 

"I  should  like  to  know  where  that  fellow  lives,"  cried 
the  cornet. 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  she  said.  "He  lends  money. 
Do  you  want  any?  I  heard  your  sisters  say  something,  one 
day.  You  can  always  have  all  that  I  have,  you  know." 

A  quick  spirit  of  pity  and  honest  kindness  went  through 
Wilfrid's  veins  and  threatened  to  play  the  woman  with  his 
eyes,  for  a  moment.  He  took  her  hand  and  pressed  it. 
She  put  her  lips  to  his  fingers. 

"Once,"  she  continued,  "when  the  Jew  gentleman  had 
left,  I  spoke  to  my  father  of  his  way  with  me,  and  then  my 
father  took  me  on  his  knee,  and  the  things  he  told  me  of 
what  that  man  felt  for  me  made  my  mother  come  and  tear 
me  away  to  bed.  I  was  obliged  to  submit  to  the  Jew  gen- 
tleman patting  and  touching  me  always.  He  used  to  crush 
my  dreams  afterwards !  I  know  my  voice  was  going.  My 
father  was  so  eager  for  me  to  please  him,  I  did  my  best ;  but 
I  felt  dull,  and  used  to  sit  and  shake-my  head  at  my  harp, 
crying;  or  else  I  felt  like  an  angry  animal,  and  could  have 
torn  the  strings. 

"  Think  how  astonished  I  was  when  my  mother  came  to 
me  to  say  my  father  had  money  in  his  pockets ! —  one  pound, 
seventeen  shillings,  she  counted :  and  he  had  not  been  play- 


4T)  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

ing!  Then  he  brought  home  a  new  violin,  and  he  said  to 
me,  4I  shall  go;  I  shall  play;  I  am  Orphee,  and  dinners 
shall  rise ! '  I  was  glad,  and  kissed  him ;  and  he  said,  ihis 
is  Sandra's  gift  to  me,'  showing  the  violin.  I  only  knew 
what  that  meant  two  days  afterwards.  Is  a  girl  not  seven- 
teen fit  to  be  married?  " 

With  this  abrupt  and  singular  question  she  had  taken  an 
indignant  figure,  and  her  eyes  were  fiery :  so  that  Wilfrid 
thought  her  much  fitter  than  a  minute  before. 

"  Married !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  My  mother  told  me  about 
that.  You  do  not  belong  to  yourself :  you  are  tied  down. 
You  are  a  slave,  a  drudge;  mustn't  dream,  mustn't  think! 
I  hate  it.  By-and-by,  I  suppose  it  will  happen.  Not  yet! 
And  yet  that  man  offered  to  take  me  to  Italy.  It  was  the 
Jew  gentleman.  He  said  I  should  make  money,  if  he  took 
me,  and  grow  as  rich  as  princesses.  He  brought  a  friend 
to  hear  me,  another  Jew  gentleman ;  and  he  was  delighted, 
and  he  met  me  near  our  door  the  very  next  morning,  and 
offered  me  a  ring  with  blue  stones,  and  he  proposed  to  marry 
me  also,  and  take  me  to  Italy,  if  I  would  give  up  his  friend 
and  choose  him  instead.  This  man  did  not  touch  me,  and, 
do  you  know,  for  some  time  I  really  thought  I  almost,  very 
nearly,  might, —  if  it  had  not  been  for  his  face!  It  was 
impossible  to  go  to  Italy  —  yes,  to  go  to  heaven!  — through 
that  face  of  his !  That  face  of  his  was  just  like  the  pictures 
of  dancing  men  with  animals'  hairy  legs  and  hoofs  in  an  old 
thick  poetry  book  belonging  to  my  mother.  Just  fancy  a 
nose  that  seemed  to  be  pecking  at  great  fat  red  lips !  He 
met  me  and  pressed  me  to  go  continually,  till  all  of  a  sudden 
up  came  the  first  Jew  gentleman,  and  he  cried  out  quite  loud 
in  the  street  that  he  was  being  robbed  by  the  other;  and 
they  stood  and  made  a  noise  in  the  street,  and  I  ran  away. 
But  then  I  heard  that  my  father  had  borrowed  money  from 
the  one  who  came  first,  and  that  his  violin  came  from  that 
man ;  and  my  father  told  me  the  violin  would  be  taken  from 
him,  and  he  would  have  to  go  to  prison,  if  I  did  not  marry 
that  man.  I  went  and  cried  in  my  mother's  arms.  I  shall 
never  forget  her  kindness ;  for  though  she  could  never  see 
anybody  crying  without  crying  herself,  she  did  not,  and  was 
quiet  as  a  mouse,  because  she  knew  how  her  voice  hurt  me. 
There's  a  large  print-shop  in  one  of  the  great  streets  of 


EMILIA   CONTINUES   HER   PERFORMANCE  41 

London,  with  coloured  views  of  Italy.  I  used  to  go  there 
once,  and  stand  there  for  I  don't  know  how  long,  looking 
at  them,  and  trying  to  get  those  Jew  gentlemen " 

"Call  them  Jews  —  they're  not  gentlemen,"  interposed 
Wilfrid. 

"  Jews,"  she  obeyed  the  dictate,  "  out  of  my  mind.  When 
I  saw  the  views  of  Italy  they  danced  and  grinned  up  and 
down  the  pictures.  Oh,  horrible!  There  was  no  singing 
for  me  then.  My  music  died.  At  last  that  oldish  lady 
gave  up  her  lessons,  and  said  to  me,  'You  little  rogue!  you 
will  do  what  I  do,  some  day ; '  for  she  was  going  to  be  mar- 
ried to  that  young  man  who  thought  her  voice  so  much 
improved ;  and  she  paid  me  three  pounds,  and  gave  me  one 
pound  more,  and  some  ribbons  and  gloves.  I  went  at  once 
to  my  mother,  and  made  her  give  me  five  pounds  out  of  the 
gentleman's  purse.  1  took  my  harp  and  music-scores.  1 
did  not  know  where  I  was  going,  but  only  that  I  could  not 
stop.  My  mother  cried:  but  she  helped  to  pack  my  things. 
If  she  disobeys  me  I  act  my  father,  and  tower  over  her,  and 
frown,  and  make  her  mild.  She  was  such  a  poor  good  slave 
to  me  that  day !  but  I  trusted  her  no  farther  than  the  door. 
There  I  kissed  her,  full  of  love,  and  reached  the  railway. 
They  asked  me  where  I  was  going,  and  named  places  to  me : 
I  did  not  know  one.  I  shut  my  eyes,  and  prayed  to  be 
directed,  and  chose  Hillford.  In  the  train  I  was  full  of 
music  in  a  moment.  There  I  met  farmer  Wilson,  of  the 
farm  near  us  —  where  your  sisters  found  me ;  and  he  was 
kind,  and  asked  me  about  myself;  and  I  mentioned  lodg- 
ings, and  that  I  longed  for  woods  and  meadows.  Just  as 
we  were  getting  out  of  the  train,  he  said  I  was  to  come  with 
him ;  and  I  did,  very  gladly.  Then  I  met  you ;  and  I  am  here. 
All  because  I  prayed  to  be  directed  —  I  do  think  that ! " 

Emilia  clasped  her  hands,  and  looked  pensively  at  the 
horizon  sky,  with  a  face  of  calm  gratefulness. 

The  cornet  was  on  his  legs.  "  So !  "  he  said.  "  And  you 
neve*  saw  anything  more  of  that  fellow  you  kissed  in  the 
park  ?  " 

"  Kissed  ?  —  that  gentleman  ?  "  returned  Emilia.  "  I  have 
not  kissed  him.  He  did  npt  want  it.  Men  kiss  us  when  we 
are  happy,  and  we  kiss  them  when  they  are  unhappy." 


12  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

Wilfrid  was  perhaps  incompetent  to  test  the  truth  of  this 
profound  aphoristic  remark,  delivered  with  the  simplicity  of 
natural  conviction.  The  narrative  had,  to  his  thinking,  quite 
released  from  him  his  temporary  subjection  to  this  little  lady's 
sway.  All  that  he  felt  for  her  personally  now  was  pity.  It 
speaks  something  for  the  strength  of  the  sentiment  with 
which  he  had  first  conceived  her,  that  it  was  not  pelted  to 
death,  and  turned  to  infinite  disgust,  by  her  potatoes.  For 
sentiment  is  a  dainty,  delicate  thing,  incapable  of  bearing 
much :  revengeful,  too,  when  it  is  outraged.  Bruised  and 
disfigured,  it  stood  up  still,  and  fought  against  them.  They 
were  very  tine  ones,  as  Emilia  said,  and  they  hit  him  hard. 
However,  he  pitied  her,  and  that  protected  him  like  a  shield. 
He  told  his  sisters  a  tale  of  his  own  concerning  the  strange 
damsel,  humorously  enough  to  make  them  see  that  he  enjoyed 
her  presence  as  that  of  no  common  oddity. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THREATS  OF  A  CRISIS  IN  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  BROOKFIELD  : 
AND   OF   THE   VIRTUE   RESIDENT   IN   A   TAIL-COAT 

WHILE  Emilia  was  giving  Wilfrid  her  history  in  the  gar- 
den,  the  ladies  of  Brookfield  were  holding  consultation  over 
a  matter  which  was  well  calculated  to  perplex  and  irritate 
them  excessively.    Mr.  Pole  had  received  a  curious  short 
epistle  from  Mrs.  Chump,  informing  him  of  the  atrocious 
reatment  she  had  met  with  at  the  hands  of  his  daughter  • 
instead  of  reviewing  the  orthography,  incoherence,  and 
liberate  vulgarity  of  the  said  piece  of  writing  with  the  con- 
eropt  it  deserved,  he  had  taken  the  unwonted  course  of  tell- 
f  Arabella  that  she  had  done  a  thing  she  must  necessarily 
of,  or  in  any  case  make  apology  for.    An  Eastern 
en,  thus  addressed  by  her  Minister  of  the  treasury,  could 
f  T      u  greatel  kdignation.    Arabella  had  never  seen 
father  show  such  perturbation  of  mind.     He  spoke  vio- 

The  a°lo      v  to  be 


.  - 

!rt  rST-ty  ,   The  aP°lo*y  vas  order*d  to  be 
espatched  by  that  night's  post,  after  having  been  submitted 


43 

to  his  inspection.  Mr.  Pole  had  uttered  mysterious  phrases : 
"  You  don't  know  what  you've  been  doing :  —  You  think  the 
ship'll  go  on  sailing  without  wind :  —  You'll  drive  the  horse 
till  he  drops,"  and  such  like;  together  with  mutterings. 
The  words  were  of  no  import  whatsoever  to  the  ladies.  They 
were  writings  on  the  wall ;  untranslateable.  But,  as  when 
the  earth  quakes  our  noble  edifices  totter,  their  Palace  of 
the  Fine  Shades  and  the  Nice  Feelings  groaned  and  creaked, 
and  for  a  moment  they  thought :  "  Where  are  we  ?  "  Very 
soon  they  concluded  that  the  speech  Arabella  had  heard  was 
due  to  their  darling  papa's  defective  education. 

In  the  Council  of  Three,  with  reference  to  the  letter  of 
apology  to  Mrs.  Chump,  Adela  proposed,  if  it  pleased  Ara- 
bella, to  fight  the  battle  of  the  Republic.  She  was  young, 
and  wished  both  to  fight  and  to  lead,  as  Arabella  knew. 
She  was  checked.  "  It  must  be  left  to  me,"  said  Arabella. 

"  Of  course  you  resist,  dear  ?  "  Cornelia  carelessly  ques- 
tioned. 

"  Assuredly  I  do." 

"  Better  humiliation !  better  anything !  better  marriage! 
than  to  submit  in  such  a  case,"  cried  Adela. 

For,  so  united  were  the  ladies  of  Brookfield,  and  so  bent 
on  their  grand  hazy  object,  that  they  looked  upon  married 
life  unfavourably  :  and  they  had  besides  an  idea  that  Wed- 
lock, until '  late  in  life '  (the  age  of  thirty,  say),  was  the  burial 
alive  of  woman  intellectual. 

Toward  midday  the  ladies  put  on  their  garden  hats  and 
went  into  the  grounds  together,  for  no  particular  purpose. 
Near  the  West  copse  they  beheld  Mr.  Pole  with  Wilfrid  and 
Emilia  talking  to  a  strange  gentleman.  Assuming  a  proper 
dignity,  they  advanced,  when  to  their  horror,  Emilia  ran  up 
to  them  crying :  "  This  is  Mr.  Purcell  Barrett,  the  gentleman 
who  plays  the  organ  at  church.  I  met  him  in  the  woods 
before  I  knew  you.  I  played  for  him  the  other  Sunday,  and 
I  want  you  to  know  him." 

She  had  hold  of  Arabella's  hand  and  was  drawing  her  on. 
There  was  no  opportunity  for  retreat.  Wilfrid  looked  as  if 
he  had  already  swallowed  the  dose.  Almost  precipitated 
into  the  arms  of  the  ladies,  Mr.  Barrett  bowed.  He  was  a 
tolerably  youthful  man,  as  decently  attired  as  old  black 
cloth  could  help  him  to  be.  A  sharp  inspection  satisfied  the 


44  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

ladies  that  his  hat  and  boots  were  inoffensive :  whereupon 
they  gave  him  the  three  shades  of  distance,  tempered  so  as 
not  to  wound  his  susceptible  poverty. 

The  superlative  Polar  degree  appeared  to  invigorate  Mr. 
Barrett.  He  devoted  his  remarks  mainly  to  Cornelia,  and 
cheerfully  received  her  frozen  monosyllables  in  exchange. 
The  ladies  talked  of  Organs  and  Art,  Emilia  and  Opera. 
He  knew  this  and  that  great  organ,  and  all  the  operas ;  but 
he  amazed  the  ladies  by  talking  as  if  he  knew  great  people 
likewise.  This  brought  out  Mr.  Pole,  who,  since  he  had 
purchased  Brookfield,  had  been  extinguished  by  them  and 
had  not  once  thoroughly  enjoyed  his  money's  worth.  A 
courtly  poor  man  was  a  real  pleasure  to  him. 

Giving  a  semicircular  sweep  of  his  arm :  "  Here  you  see 
my  little  estate,  sir,"  he  said.  "  You've  seen  plenty  bigger 
in  Germany,  and  England  too.  We  can't  get  more  than 
this  handful  in  our  tight  little  island.  Unless  born  to  it, 
of  course.  Well !  we  must  be  grateful  that  all  our  nobility 
don't  go  to  the  dogs.  We  must  preserve  our  great  names. 
I  speak  against  my  own  interest." 

He  lifted  Adela's  chin  on  his  forefinger.  She  kept  her 
eyes  demurely  downward,  and  then  gazed  at  her  sisters  with 
gravity.  These  ladies  took  a  view  of  Mr.  Barrett.  His 
features  wore  an  admirable  expression  of  simple  interest. 
"  Well,  sir ;  suppose  you  dine  with  us  to-day  ?  "  Mr.  Pole 
bounced  out.  "  Neighbours  should  be  neighbourly." 

This  abrupt  invitation  was  decorously  accepted. 

"  Plain  dinner,  you  know.  Nothing  like  what  you  get  at 
the  tables  of  those  Erzhogs,  as  you  call  'em,  over  in  Ger- 
many. Simple  fare ;  sound  wine !  At  all  events,  it  won't 
hurt  you.  You'll  come  ?  " 

Mr.  Barrett  bowed,  murmuring  thanks.  This  was  the 
very  man  Mr.  Pole  wanted  to  have  at  his  board  occasionally : 
one  who  had  known  great  people,  and  would  be  thankful  for 
a  dinner.  He  could  depreciate  himself  as  a  mere  wealthy 
British  merchant  imposingly  before  such  a  man.  His 
daughters  had  completely  cut  him  off  from  his  cronies ;  and 
the  sens*  of  restriction,  and  compression,  and  that  his  own 
house  was  fast  becoming  alien  territory  to  him,  made  him 
pounce  upon  the  gentlemanly  organist.  His  daughters  won- 
dered why  he  should,  in  the  presence  of  this  stranger, 


A   CRISIS  IN  THE   GOVERNMENT   OF   BROOKFIELD     45 

exaggerate  his  peculiar  style  of  speech.  But  the  worthy 
merchant's  consciousness  of  his  identity  was  vanishing 
under  the  iron  social  rule  of  the  ladies.  His  perishing  in- 
dividuality prompted  the  inexplicable  invitation,  and  the 
form  of  it. 

After  Mr.  Barrett  had  departed,  the  ladies  ventured  to 
remonstrate  with  their  papa.  He  at  once  replied  by  asking 
whether  the  letter  to  Mrs.  Chump  had  been  written ;  and 
hearing  that  it  had  not,  he  desired  that  Arabella  should  go 
into  the  house  and  compose  it  straightway.  The  ladies 
coloured.  To  Adela's  astonishment,  she  found  that  Arabella 
had  turned.  Joining  her,  she  said,  "  Dearest,  what  a  mo- 
ment you  have  lost !  We  could  have  stood  firm,  continually 
changing  the  theme  from  Chump  to  Barrett,  Barrett  to 
Chump,  till  papa's  head  would  have  twirled.  He  would 
have  begun  to  think  Mr.  Barrett  the  Irish  widow,  and  Mrs. 
Chump  the  organist." 

Arabella  rejoined:  "Your  wit  misleads  you,  darling.  I 
know  what  I  am  about.  I  decline  a  wordy  contest.  To  ap- 
proach to  a  quarrel,  or,  say  dispute,  with  one's  parent 
apropos  of  such  a  person,  is  something  worse  than  evil 
policy,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

So  strongly  did  the  sisters  admire  this  delicate  way  of 
masking  a  piece  of  rank  cowardice,  that  they  forgave  her. 
The  craven  feeling  was  common  to  them  all,  —  which  made 
it  still  more  difficult  to  forgive  her. 

"  Of  course,  we  resist  ?  "  said  Cornelia. 

"Undoubtedly." 

"  We  retire  and  retire,"  Adela  remarked.  "  We  waste  the 
royal  forces.  But,  dear  me,  that  makes  us  insurgents  ! " 

She  laughed,  being  slightly  frivolous.  Her  elders  had  the 
proper  sentimental  worship  of  youth  and  its  supposed 
quality  of  innocence,  and  caressed  her. 

At  the  ringing  of  the  second  dinner-bell,  Mr.  Pole  ran  to 
the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  shouted  for  Arabella,  who  returned 
no  answer,  and  was  late  in  her  appearance  at  table.  Grace 
concluded,  Mr.  Pole  said,  "  Letter  gone  ?  I  wanted  to  see 
it,  you  know." 

"  It  was  as  well  not,  papa,"  Arabella  replied. 

Mr.  Pole  shook  his  head  seriously.  The  ladies  were  thank- 
ful for  the  presence  of  Mr.  Barrett.  And  lo !  this  man  was 


46  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

in  perfect  evening  uniform.  He  looked  as  gentlemanly  a 
visitor  as  one  might  wish  to  see.  There  was  no  trace  of  the 
poor  organist.  Poverty  seemed  rather  a  gold-edge  to  his 
tail-coat  than  a  rebuke  to  it;  just  as,  contrariwise,  great 
wealth  is,  to  the  imagination,  really  set  off  by  a  careless  cos- 
tume. One  need  not  explain  how  the  mind  acts  in  such 
owes :  the  fact,  as  I  have  put  it,  is  indisputable.  And  let 
the  young  men  of  our  generation  mark  the  present  chapter, 
that  they  may  know  the  virtue  residing  in  a  tail-coat,  and 
cling  to  it,  whether  buffeted  by  the  waves,  or  burnt  out  by 
the  fire,  of  evil  angry  fortune.  His  tail-coat  safe,  the  youth- 
ful Briton  is  always  ready  for  any  change  in  the  mind  of 
the  moody  Goddess.  And  it  is  an  almost  certain  thing  that, 
presuming  her  to  have  a  damsel  of  condition  in  view  for 
him  as  a  compensation  for  the  slaps  he  has  received,  he 
must  lose  her,  he  cannot  enter  a  mutual  path  with  her,  if  he 
shall  have  failed  to  retain  this  article  of  a  black  tail,  his 
social  passport.  I  mean  of  course  that  he  retain  respect  for 
the  article  in  question.  Respect  for  it  firmly  seated  in  his 
mind,  the  tail  may  be  said  to  be  always  handy.  It  is  fort- 
une's uniform  in  Britain :  the  candlestick,  if  I  may  dare  to 
say  so,  to  the  candle ;  nor  need  any  young  islander  despair 
of  getting  to  himself  her  best  gifts,  while  he  has  her  uniform 
at  command,  as  glossy  as  may  be. 

The  ladies  of  Brookfield  were  really  stormed  by  Mr.  Bar- 
rett's elegant  tail.  When,  the  first  glass  of  wine  nodded 
over,  Mr.  Pole  continued  the  discourse  of  the  morning,  with 
allusions  to  French  cooks,  and  his  cook,  their  sympathies 
were  taken  captive  by  Mr.  Barrett's  tact :  the  door  to  their 
sympathies  having  been  opened  to  him  as  it  were  by  his 
attire.  They  could  not  guess  what  necessity  urged  Mr.  Pole 
to  assert  his  locked-up  self  so  vehemently ;  but  it  certainly 
made  the  stranger  shine  with  a  beautiful  mild  lustre.  Their 
spirits  partly  succumbed  to  him  by  a  process  too  lengthened 
to  explain  here.  Indeed,  I  dare  do  no  more  than  hint  at 

;ese  mysteries  of  feminine  emotion.  I  beg  you  to  believe 
that  when  we  are  dealing  with  that  wonder,  the  human  heart 
remale,  the  part  played  by  a  tail-coat  and  a  composed  de- 

leanour  is  not  insignificant.    No  doubt  the  ladies  of  Brook- 

i  would  have  rebutted  the  idea  of  a  tail-coat  influencing 

them  in  any  way  as  monstrous.     But  why  was  it,  when  Mr. 


A   CRISIS   IN  THE   GOVERNMENT   OF   BROOKFIELD     47 

Pole  again  harped  on  his  cook,  in  almost  similar  words,  that 
they  were  drawn  to  meet  the  eyes  of  the  stranger,  on  whom 
they  printed  one  of  the  most  fabulously  faint  fleeting  looks 
imaginable,  with  a  proportionately  big  meaning  for  him  that 
might  read  it  ?  It  must  have  been  that  this  uniform  of  a 
tail  had  laid  a  basis  of  equality  for  the  hour,  otherwise  they 
never  would  have  done  so ;  nor  would  he  have  enjoyed  the 
chance  of  showing  them  that  he  could  respond  to  the  re- 
motest mystic  indications,  with  a  muffled  adroitness  equal 
to  their  own,  and  so  encouraged  them  to  commence  a  lan- 
guage leading  to  intimacy  with  a  rapidity  that  may  well 
appear  magical  to  the  uninitiated.  In  short,  the  man  really 
had  the  language  of  the  very  elect  of  polite  society.  If  you 
are  not  versed  in  this  alphabet  of  mute  intelligence,  you  are 
in  the  ranks  with  waiters  and  linen-drapers,  and  are,  as  far 
as  ladies  are  concerned,  tail-coated  to  no  purpose. 

Mr.  Pole's  fresh  allusion  to  his  cook :  "  I  hope  you  don't 
think  I  keep  a  man !  No  ;  no ;  not  in  the  country.  Wouldn't 
do.  Plays  the  deuce,  you  know.  My  opinion  is,  Mrs.  Mal- 
low's as  clever  as  any  man-cook  going.  I'd  back  her :  "  — 
and  Mr.  Barrett's  speech :  "  She  is  an  excellent  person ! " 
delivered  briefly,  with  no  obtrusion  of  weariness,  confirmed 
the  triumph  of  the  latter;  a  triumph  all  the  greater,  that 
he  seemed  unconscious  of  it.  They  leaped  at  one  bound  to 
the  conclusion  that  there  was  a  romance  attached  to  him. 
Do  not  be  startled.  An  attested  tail-coat,  clearly  out  of  its 
element,  must  contain  a  story  :  that  story  must  be  interest- 
ing; until  its  secret  is  divulged,  the  subtle  essence  of  it 
spreads  an  aureole  around  the  tail.  The  ladies  declared,  in 
their  subsequent  midnight  conference,  that  Mr.  Barrett  was 
fit  for  any  society.  They  had  visions  of  a  great  family  re- 
duced :  of  a  proud  son  choosing  to  earn  his  bread  honourably 
and  humbly,  by  turning  an  exquisite  taste  to  account.  Many 
visions  of  him  they  had,  and  were  pleased. 

Patronage  of  those  beneath,  much  more  than  the  courting 
of  those  above  them,  delighted  the  ladies  of  Brookfield.  They 
allowed  Emilia  to  give  Mr.  Barrett  invitations,  and  he  became 
a  frequent  visitor :  always  neat,  pathetically  well-brushed, 
and  a  pleasanter  pet  than  Emilia,  because  he  never  shocked 
their  niceties.  He  was  an  excellent  talker,  and  was  very  soon 
engaged  \r:  regular  contests  with  the  argumentative  Cornelia. 


48  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

Their  political  views  were  not  always  the  same,  as  Cornelia 
sometimes  had  read  the  paper  before  he  arrived.  Happily, 
on  questions  of  religion,  they  coincided.  Theories  of  edu- 
cation occupied  them  mainly.  In  these  contests  Mr.  Barrett 
did  not  fail  to  acknowledge  his  errors,  when  convicted,  and 
his  acknowledgment  was  hearty  and  ample.  She  had  many 
clear  triumphs.  Still,  ht  could  be  positive :  a  very  great 
charm  in  him.  Women  cannot  repose  on  a  man  who  is  not 
positive ;  nor  have  they  much  gratification  in  confounding 
him.  Wouldst  thou,  0  man,  amorously  inclining !  attract 
to  thee  superior  women,  be  positive.  Be  stupidly  positive, 
rather  than  dubious  at  all.  Face  fearful  questions  with 
a  vizor  of  brass.  Array  thyself  in  dogmas.  Show  thy  de- 
cisive judgement  on  the  side  of  established  power,  or  thy 
enthusiasm  in  the  rebel  ranks,  if  it  must  be  so;  but  be 
firm.  Waver  not.  If  women  could  tolerate  waverings  and 
weakness,  and  did  not  rush  to  the  adoration  of  decision  of 
mind,  we  should  not  behold  them  turning  contemptuously 
from  philosophers  in  their  agony,  to  find  refuge  in  the  arms 
of  smirking  orthodoxy.  I  do  not  say  that  Mr.  Barrett  vent- 
ured to  play  the  intelligent  Cornelia  like  a  fish ;  but  such 
a  fish  was  best  secured  by  the  method  he  adopted :  that  of 
giving  her  signal  victory  in  trifles,  while  on  vital  matters 
be  held  his  own. 

Very  pleasant  evenings  now  passed  at  Brookfield,  which 
were  not  at  all  disturbed  by  the  wonder  expressed  from 
time  to  time  by  Mr.  Pole,  that  he  had  not  heard  from  Mar- 
tha, meaning  Mrs.  Chump.  "  You  have  Emilia,"  the  ladies 
said ;  this  being  equivalent  to  "  She  is  one  of  that  sort  ; " 
and  Mr.  Pole  understood  it  so,  and  fastened  Emilia  in  one 
arm,  with  "Now,  a  kiss,  my  dear,  and  then  a  toon." 
Emilia  readily  gave  both.  As  often  as  he  heard  instances 
of  her  want  of  ladylike  training,  he  would  say,  "Keep  her 
here;  we'll  better  her."  Mr.  Barrett  assisted  the  ladies 
to  see  that  there  was  more  in  Emilia  than  even  Mr.  Pericles 
had  perceived.  Her  story  had  become  partially  known  to 
them;  and  with  two  friendly  dependents  of  the  household, 
one  a  gentleman  and  the  other  a  genius,  they  felt  that  they 
had  really  attained  a  certain  eminence,  which  is  a  thing  to 
t  only  when  we  have  something  under  our  feet  Fly- 
ing about  with  a  desperate  grip  on  the  extreme  skirts  of 


THE  MAKCH  OF   EMILIA'S   HISTORY  49 

aristocracy,  the  ladies  knew  to  be  the  elevation  of  depend- 
ency, not  true  eminence;  and  though  they  admired  the 
kite,  they  by  no  means  wished  to  form  a  part  of  its  tail. 
They  had  brains.  A  circle  was  what  they  wanted,  and 
they  had  not  to  learn  that  this  is  to  be  found  or  made  only 
in  the  liberally-educated  class,  into  the  atmosphere  of  which 
they  pressed  like  dungeoned  plants.  The  parasite  com- 
pletes  the  animal,  and  a  dependent  assures  us  of  our  posi- 
tion. The  ladies  of  Brookfield,  therefore,  let  Emilia  cling 
to  them,  remarking,  that  it  seemed  to  be  their  papa's  set- 
tled wish  that  she  should  reside  among  them  for  a  time. 
Consequently,  if  the  indulgence  had  ever  to  be  regretted, 
they  would  not  be  to  blame.  In  their  hearts  they  were 
aware  that  it  was  Emilia  who  had  obtained  for  them  their 
first  invitation  to  Lady  Gosstre's.  Gratitude  was  not  a 
part  of  their  policy,  but  when  it  assisted  a  recognition  of 
material  facts  they  did  not  repress  it.  "  And  if,"  they  said, 
"  we  can  succeed  in  polishing  her  and  toning  her,  she  may 
have  something  to  thank  us  for,  in  the  event  of  her  ulti- 
mately making  a  name."  That  event  being  of  course  neces- 
sary for  the  development  of  so  proper  a  sentiment.  Thus 
the  rides  with  Wilfrid  continued,  and  the  sweet  quiet  even- 
ings when  she  sang. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN    WHICH    A    BIO    DRUM   SPEEDS    THE    MARCH   OF    EMILIA'S 

HISTORY 

THE  windows  of  Brookfield  were  thrown  open  to  the  air 
of  May,  and  bees  wandered  into  the  rooms,  gold  spots  of 
sunshine  danced  along  the  floors.  The  garden-walks  were 
dazzling,  and  the  ladies  went  from  flower-bed  to  flower-bed 
in  broad  garden  hats  that  were,  as  an  occasional  light  glance 
flung  at  a  window-pane  assured  Adela,  becoming.  Sunshine 
had  burst  on  them  suddenly,  and  there  was  no  hat  to  be 
found  for  Emilia,  so  Wilfrid  placed  his  gold-laced  foraging- 
cap  on  her  head,  and  the  ladies,  after  a  moment's  misgiv- 
ing, allowed  her  to  wear  it,  and  turned  to  observe  her  now 


50  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

and  then.  There  was  never  pertness  in  Emilia's  look,  which 
on  the  contrary  was  singularly  large  and  calm  when  it  re- 
posed: perhaps  her  dramatic  instinct  prompted  her  half- 
i  aunty  manner  of  leaning  against  the  sunny  corner  of  the 
house  where  the  Chinese  honeysuckle  climbed.  She  was 
talking  to  Wilfrid.  Her  laughter  seemed  careless  and  easy, 
and  in  keeping  with  the  Southern  litheness  of  her  attitude. 

"  To  suit  the  cap ;  it's  all  to  suit  the  cap,"  said  Adela,  the 
keen  of  eye.  Yet,  critical  as  was  this  lady,  she  acknow- 
ledged that  it  was  no  mere  acting  effort  to  suit  the  cap. 

The  philosopher  (I  would  keep  him  back  if  I  could)  bids 
tw  mark  that  the  crown  and  flower  of  the  nervous  system, 
the  head,  is  necessarily  sensitive,  and  to  that  degree  that 
whatsoever  we  place  on  it,  does,  for  a  certain  period,  change 
and  shape  us.  Of  course  the  instant  we  call  up  the  forces  of 
the  brain,  much  of  the  impression  departs :  but  what  remains 
IB  powerful,  and  fine-nerved.  Woman  is  especially  subject 
to  it  A  girl  may  put  on  her  brother's  boots,  and  they  will 
not  affect  her  spirit  strongly ;  but  as  soon  as  she  puts  on  her 
brother's  hat,  she  gives  him  a  manly  nod.  The  same  philos- 
opher who  fathers  his  dulness  on  me,  asserts  that  the  modern 
rice  of  fastness  ('  Trotting  on  the  Epicene  Border/  he  has  it) 
is  bred  by  apparently  harmless  practices  of  this  description. 
He  offers  to  turn  the  current  of  a  republican's  brain,  by  rest- 
ing a  coronet  on  his  forehead  for  just  five  seconds. 

Howsoever  these  things  be,  it  was  true  that  Emilia's  feet 
presently  crossed,  and  she  was  soon  to  be  seen  with  her  right 
elbow  doubled  against  her  head  as  she  leaned  to  the  wall, 
and  the  little  left  fist  stuck  at  her  belt.  And  I  maintain 
that  she  had  no  sense  at  all  of  acting  Spanish  prince  dis- 
guised as  page.  Nor  had  she  an  idea  that  she  was  making 
her  friend  Wilfrid's  heart  perform  to  her  lightest  words  and 
actions,  like  any  trained  milk-white  steed  in  a  circus.  Sun- 
light, as  well  as  Wilfrid's  braided  cap,  had  some  magical  in- 
fluence on  her.  He  assured  her  that  she  looked  a  charming 
boy,  and  she  said,  «  Do  I  ?  "  just  lifting  her  chin. 

A  gardener  was  shaving  the  lawn. 

"Please,  spare  those  daisies,"  cried  Emilia.  "Whv  do 
you  cut  away  daisies  ?  "  ' 

The  gardener  objected  that  he  really  must  make  the  lawn 

xooth.    Emilia  called  to  Adela,  who  came,  and  hearing  the 


THE   MARCH   OF   EMILIA'S   HISTORY  51 

case,  said :  "  Now  this  is  nice  of  you.  I  like  you  to  love 
daisies  and  wish  to  protect  them.  They  disfigure  a  lawn,  you 
know."  And  Adela  stooped,  and  picked  one,  and  called  it  a 
pet  name,  and  dropped  it. 

She  returned  to  her  sisters  in  the  conservatory,  and  meet- 
ing Mr.  Barrett  at  the  door,  made  the  incident  a  topic.  "  You 
know  how  greatly  our  Emilia  rejoices  us  when  she  shows 
sentiment,  and  our  thirst  is  to  direct  her  to  appreciate  Nat- 
ure in  its  humility  as  well  as  its  grandeur." 

"  One  expects  her  to  have  all  poetical  feelings,"  said  Mr. 
Barrett,  while  they  walked  forth  to  the  lawn  sloping  to  the 
tufted  park  grass. 

Cornelia  said :  "  You  have  read  Mr.  E/unningbrook's 
story  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

But  the  man  had  not  brought  it  back,  and  her  name  was 
in  it,  written  with  her  own  hand. 

"  Are  you  of  my  opinion  in  the  matter  ?  " 

"  In  the  matter  of  the  style  ?  I  am  and  I  am  not.  Your 
condemnation  may  be  correct  in  itself;  but  you  say^  'He 
coins  words ; '  and  he  certainly  forces  the  phrase  here  and 
there,  I  must  admit.  The  point  to  be  considered  is,  whether 
fiction  demands  a  perfectly  smooth  surface.  Undoubtedly 
a  scientific  work  does,  and  a  philosophical  treatise  should. 
When  we  ask  for  facts  simply,  we  feel  the  intrusion  of  a 
style.  Of  fiction  it  is  part.  In  the  one  case  the  classical 
robe,  in  the  other  any  mediaeval  phantasy  of  clothing." 

"Yes;  true;"  said  Cornelia,  hesitating  over  her  argu- 
ment. "Well,  I  must  conclude  that  I  am  not  imaginative." 

"  On  the  contrary,  permit  me  to  say  that  you  are.  But 
your  imagination  is  unpractised,  and  asks  to  be  fed  with  a 
spoon.  We  English  are  more  imaginative  than  most  nations." 

"Then,  why  is  it  not  manifested?" 

"We  are  still  fighting  against  the  Puritan  element,  in 
literature  as  elsewhere." 

"  Your  old  bugbear,  Mr.  Barrett ! " 

"  And  more  than  this  •  our  language  is  not  rich  in  subtle- 
ties for  prose.  A  writer  who  is  not  servile  and  has  insight, 
must  coin  from  his  own  mint.  In  poetry  we  are  rich  enough ; 
but  in  prose  also  we  owe  everything  to  the  license  our  poets 
have  taken  in  the  teeth  of  critics.  Shall  I  give  you  examples  ? 


52  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

It  is  ***,«  uecessary.  Our  simplest  prose  style  is  nearer  to 
poetry  with  us,  for  this  reason,  that  the  poets  have  made  it 
Read  French  poetry.  With  the  first  couplet  the  sails  are 
full,  and  you  have  left  the  shores  of  prose  far  behind.  Mr. 
Bunningbrook  coins  words  and  risks  expressions  because  an 
imaginative  Englishman,  pen  in  hand,  is  the  cadet  and  vaga- 
bond of  the  family  —  an  exploring  adventurer ;  whereas  to  a 
Frenchman  it  all  comes  inherited  like  a  well-filled  purse. 
The  audacity  of  the  French  mind,  and  the  French  habit  of 
quick  social  intercourse,  have  made  them  nationally  far  richer 
in  language.  Let  me  add,  individually  us  much  poorer. 
Read  their  stereotyped  descriptions.  They  all  say  the  same 
things.  They  have  one  big  Gallic  trumpet.  Wonderfully 
eloquent :  we  feel  that :  but  the  person  does  not  speak.  And 
now,  you  will  be  surprised  to  learn  that,  notwithstanding 
what  I  have  said,  I  should  still  side  with  Mr.  Kunning- 
brook's  fair  critic,  rather  than  with  him.  The  reason  is,  that 
the  necessity  to  write  as  he  does  is  so  great  that  a  strong 
barrier  —  a  chevaux-de-friae  of  pen  points — must  be  raised 
against  every  newly  minted  word  and  hazardous  coiner,  or 
we  shall  be  inundated.  If  he  can  leap  the  barrier  he  and  his 
goods  must  be  admitted.  So  it  has  been  with  our  greatest, 
so  it  must  be  with  the  rest  of  them,  or  we  shall  have  a  Trans- 
atlantic  literature.  By  no  means  desirable,  I  think.  Yet, 
see :  when  a  piece  of  Transatlantic  slang  happens  to  be  tell- 
ingly true  —  something  coined  from  an  absolute  experience : 
from  a  fight  with  the  elements  —  we  cannot  resist  it:  it 
invades  us.  In  the  same  way  poetic  rashness  of  the  right 
quality  enriches  the  language.  I  would  make  it  prove  its 
quality." 

Cornelia  walked  on  gravely.    His  excuse  for  dilating  on 
the  theme,  prompted  her  to  say :  "  You  give  me  new  views : " 
lie  all  her  reflections  sounded  from  the  depths:  "And 
yet,  the  man  who  talks  thus  is  a  hired  organ-player ! " 

This  recurring  thought,  more  than  the  cogency  of  the  new 

;ews,  kept  her  from  combating  certain  fallacies  in  them 
which  had  struck  her. 

"Why  do  you  not  write  yourself,  Mr.  Barrett?" 
I  have  not  the  habit." 

" The  habit!" 

"  I  have  not  heard  the  calL* 


THE  MARCH   OF   EMILIA'S   HISTORY  58 

"  Should  it  not  come  from  within  ?  " 

"  And  how  are  we  to  know  it  ?  " 

"  If  it  calls  to  you  loudly ! " 

"  Then  I  know  it  to  be  vanity." 

"  But  the  wish  to  make  a  name  is  not  vanity." 

"  The  wish  to  conceal  a  name  may  exist." 

Cornelia  took  one  of  those  little  sly  glances  at  his  features 
which  print  them  on  the  brain.  The  melancholy  of  his  words 
threw  a  sombre  hue  about  him,  and  she  began  to  think  with 
mournfulness  of  those  firm  thin  lips  fronting  misfortune: 
those  sunken  blue  eyes  under  its  shadow. 

They  walked  up  to  Mr.  Pole,  who  was  standing  with  Wil- 
frid and  Emilia  on  the  lawn ;  giving  ear  to  a  noise  in  the 
distance. 

A  big  drum  sounded  on  the  confines  of  the  Brookfield 
estate.  Soon  it  was  seen  entering  the  precincts  at  one  of  the 
principal  gates,  followed  by  trombone,  and  horn,  and  fife. 
In  the  rear  trooped  a  regiment  of  Sunday-garmented  vil- 
lagers, with  a  rambling  tail  of  loose-minded  boys  and  girls. 
Blue  and  yellow  ribands  dangled  from  broad  beaver  hats, 
and  there  were  rosettes  of  the  true-blue  mingled  with  yellow 
at  buttonholes;  and  there  was  fun  on  the  line  of  march. 
Jokes  plumped  deep  into  the  ribs,  and  were  answered  with 
intelligent  vivacity  in  the  shape  of  hearty  thwacks,  deliv- 
ered wherever  a  surface  was  favourable :  a  mode  of  repartee 
worthy  of  general  adoption,  inasmuch  as  it  can  be  passed 
on,  and  so  with  certainty  made  to  strike  your  neighbour  as 
forcibly  as  yourself :  of  which  felicity  of  propagation  verbal 
wit  cannot  always  boast.  In  the  line  of  procession,  the  hat 
of  a  member  of  the  corps  shot  sheer  into  the  sky  from  the 
compressed  energy  of  his  brain ;  for  he  and  all  his  comrades 
vociferously  denied  having  cast  it  up,  and  no  other  solution 
was  possible.  This  mysterious  incident  may  tell  you  that 
beer  was  thus  early  in  the  morning  abroad.  In  fact,  it  was 
the  procession  day  of  a  provincial  Club-feast  or  celebration 
of  the  nuptials  of  Beef  and  Beer ;  whereof  later  you  shall 
behold  the  illustrious  offspring. 

All  the  Brookfield  household  were  now  upon  the  lawn, 
awaiting  the  attack.  Mr.  Pole  would  have  liked  to  impound 
the  impouring  host,  drum  and  all,  for  the  audacity  of  the 
trespass,  and  then  to  have  fed  them  liberally,  as  a  return 


54  BMtLlA  IN  ENQLAITO 

for  the  compliment.  Aware  that  he  was  being  treated  to  the 
honours  of  a  great  man  of  the  neighbourhood,  he  determined 
to  take  it  cheerfully. 

"Come;  no  laughing!"  he  said,  directing  a  glance  at  the 
maids  who  were  ranged  behind  their  mistresses.  'Hem  ! 
we  must  look  pleased :  we  mustn't  mind  their  music,  if  they 
mean  well." 

Emilia,  whose  face  was  dismally  screwed  up  at  the  nerve- 
searching  discord,  said:  «  Why  do  they  try  to  play  anything 
but  a  drum?" 

"In  the  country,  —  in  the  country;"  Mr.  Pole  empha- 
sized. "  We  put  up  with  this  kind  of  thing  in  the  country. 
Different  in  town;  but  we  —  a — say  nothing  in  the  coun- 
try. We  must  encourage  respect  for  the  gentry,  in  the 
country.  One  of  the  penalties  of  a  country  life.  Not  much 
harm  in  it.  New  duties  in  the  country." 

He  continued  to  speak  to  himself.  In  proportion  as  he 
grew  aware  of  the  unnecessary  nervous  agitation  into  which 
the  drum  was  throwing  him,  he  assumed  an  air  of  repose, 
and  said  to  Wilfrid:  "Read  the  paper  to-day?"  and  to 
Arabella,  "  Quiet  family  dinner,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  remarked  to  Mr.  Barrett,  as  if  resuming  an 
old  conversation :  "  I  dare  say,  you've  seen  better  marching 
in  foreign  parts.  Bight  —  left;  right  —  left.  Ha!  ha! 
And  not  so  bad,  not  so  bad,  I  call  it !  with  their  right  — 
left;  right  —  left.  Ha!  ha!  You've  seen  better.  No 
need  to  tell  me  that.  But,  in  England,  we  look  to  the 
meaning  of  things.  We're  a  practical  people.  What's 
more,  we're  volunteers.  Volunteers  in  everything.  We 
can't  make  a  regiment  of  ploughmen  march  like  clockwork 
in  a  minute;  and  we  don't  want  to.  But,  give  me  the 
choice ;  I'll  back  a  body  of  volunteers  any  day." 

"  I  would  rather  be  backed  by  them,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Barrett. 

"  Very  good.  I  mean  that.  Honest  intelligent  industry 
backing  rank  and  wealth!  That  makes  a  nation  strong. 
Look  at  England ! " 

Mr.  Barrett  observed  him  stand  out  largely,  as  if  filled  by 
the  spirit  of  the  big  drum. 

That  instrument  now  gave  a  final  flourish  and  bang: 
whereat  Sound,  as  if  knocked  on  the  head,  died  languishingly. 

And  behold,  a  spokesman  was  seen  in  relief  upon  a  back- 


THE   MAECH   OF   EMILIA'S   HISTORY  55 

ground  of  grins,  that  were  oddly  intermixed  with  counte- 
nances  of  extraordinary  solemnity. 

The  same  commenced  his  propitiatory  remarks  by  assur- 
ing the  proprietor  of  Brookfield  that  he,  the  spokesman,  and 
every  man  present,  knew  they  had  taken  a  liberty  in  com- 
ing upon  Squire  Pole's  grounds  without  leave  or  warning. 
They  knew  likewise  that  Squire  Pole  excused  them. 

Chorus  of  shouts  from  the  divining  brethren. 

Right  glad  they  were  to  have  such  a  gentleman  as  Squire 
Pole  among  them :  and  if  nobody  gave  him  a  welcome  last 
year,  that  was  not  the  fault  of  the  Yellow-and-Blues.  Eh, 
my  boys  ? 

Groans  and  cheers. 

Right  sure  was  spokesman  that  Squire  Pole  was  the  friend 
of  the  poor  man,  and  liked  nothing  better  than  to  see  him 
enjoy  his  holiday.  As  why  shouldn't  he  enjoy  his  holiday 
now  and  then,  and  have  a  bit  of  relaxation  as  well  as  other 
men? 

Acquiescent  token  on  the  part  of  the  new  dignitary,  Squire 
Pole. 

Spokesman  was  hereby  encouraged  to  put  it  boldly, 
whether  a  man  was  not  a  man  all  the  world  over. 

"  For  a'  that ! "  was  sung  out  by  some  rare  bookworm  to 
rearward:  but  no  Scot  being  present,  no  frenzy  followed 
the  quotation. 

It  was  announced  that  the  Club  had  come  to  do  homage 
to  Squire  Pole  and  ladies :  the  Junction  Club  of  Ipley  and 
Hillford.  What  did  Junction  mean?  Junction  meant 
Harmony.  Harmonious  they  were,  to  be  sure :  so  they 
joined  to  good  purpose. 

Mr.  Barrett  sought  Emilia's  eyes  smilingly,  but  she  was 
intent  on  the  proceedings. 

A  cry  of  "  Bundle  o'  sticks,  Tom  Breeks.  Don't  let  slip 
'bout  bundle  o'  sticks,"  pulled  spokesman  up  short.  He 
turned  hurriedly  to  say,  "  All  right,"  and  inflated  his  chest 
to  do  justice  to  the  illustration  of  the  faggots  of  ^Esop :  but 
Mr.  Tom  Breeks  had  either  taken  in  too  much  air,  or  the  ale 
that  had  hitherto  successfully  prompted  him  was  antipa- 
thetic to  the  nice  delicacy  of  an  apologue ;  for  now  his  arm 
began  to  work  and  his  forehead  had  to  be  mopped,  and  he 
lashed  the  words  "Union  and  Harmony"  right  and  left, 


56  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

until,  coming  on  a  sentence  that  sounded  in  his  ears  like  the 
close  of  his  speech,  he  stared  ahead,  with  a  dim  idea  that  he 
had  missed  a  point.  "Bundle  o'  sticks,"  lustily  shouted, 
revived  his  apprehension :  but  the  sole  effect  was  to  make 
him  look  on  the  ground  and  lift  his  hat  on  the  point  of  a 
perplexed  finger.  He  could  not  conceive  how  the  bundle  of 
sticks  was  to  be  brought  in  now ;  or  what  to  say  concerning 
them.  Union  and  Harmony:  —  what  more  could  be  said? 
Mr.  Tom  Breeks  tried  a  remonstrance  with  his  backers.  He 
declared  to  them  that  he  had  finished,  and  had  brought  in 
the  Bundle.  They  replied  that  they  had  not  heard  it ;  that 
the  Bundle  was  the  foundation-sentiment  of  the  Club ;  the 
first  toast,  after  the  Crown ;  and  that  he  must  go  on  till  the 
Bundle  had  been  brought  in.  Hereat,  the  unhappy  man 
faced  Squire  Pole  again.  It  was  too  abject  a  position  for 
an  Englishman  to  endure.  Tom  Breeks  cast  his  hat  to 
earth.  "  I'm  dashed  if  I  can  bring  in  the  bundle  ! " 

There  was  no  telling  how  conduct  like  this  might  have 
been  received  by  the  Yellow-and-Blues  if  Mr.  Barrett  had 
not  spoken.  "  You  mean  everything  when  you  say  '  Union,' 
and  you're  quite  right  not  to  be  tautological.  You  can't 
give  such  a  blow  with  your  fingers  as  you  can  with  your 
fists,  can  you  ?  " 

Up  went  a  score  of  fists.  "We've  the  fists:  we've  the 
fists,"  was  shouted. 

Cornelia,  smiling  on  Mr.  Barrett,  asked  him  why  he  had 
confused  the  poor  people  with  the  long  word  "  tautological." 

"  I  threw  it  as  a  bone,"  said  he.  "  I  think  you  will  ob- 
serve that  they  are  already  quieter.  They  are  reflecting  on 
what  it  signifies,  and  will  by-and-by  quarrel  as  to  the  spell- 
ing of  it.  At  any  rate  it  occupies  them." 

Cornelia  laughed  inwardly,  and  marked  with  pain  that  his 
own  humour  gave  him  no  merriment. 

At  the  subsiding  of  the  echoes  that  coupled  Squire  Pole 
and  the  Junction  Club  together,  Squire  Pole  replied.  He 
wished  them  well.  He  was  glad  to  see  them,  and  sorry  he 
had  not  ale  enough  on  the  premises  to  regale  every  man  of 
Clubs  were  great  institutions.  One  fist  was  stronger 
than  a  thousand  fingers—"  as  my  friend  here  said  just  now." 
Hereat  the  eyelids  of  Cornelia  shed  another  queenly  smile  on 
the  happy  originator  of  the  remark. 


THE   MARCH   OF   EMILIA'S   HISTORY  57 

Squire  Pole  then  descended  to  business.  He  named  the 
amount  of  his  donation.  At  this  practical  sign  of  his  sup- 
port, heaven  heard  the  gratitude  of  the  good  fellows.  The 
drum  awoke  from  its  torpor,  and  summoned  its  brethren 
of  the  band  to  give  their  various  versions  of  the  National 
Anthem. 

"  Can't  they  be  stopped  ?  "  Emilia  murmured,  clenching 
her  little  hands. 

The  patriotic  melody,  delivered  in  sturdy  democratic  fash- 
ion, had  to  be  endured.  It  died  hard,  but  did  come  to  an 
end,  piecemeal.  Tom  Breeks  then  retired  from  the  front, 
and  became  a  unit  once  more.  There  were  flourishes  that 
indicated  a  termination  of  the  proceedings,  when  another  fel- 
low was  propelled  in  advance,  and  he,  shuffling  and  ducking 
his  head,  to  the  cries  of  "  Out  wi'  it,  Jim ! "  and,  "  Where's 
your  stomach  ?  "  came  still  further  forward,  and  showed  a 
most  obsequious  grin. 

"  Why,  it's  Jim  !  "  exclaimed  Emilia,  on  whom  Jim's  eyes 
were  fastened.  Stepping  nearer,  she  said,  "  Do  you  want  to 
speak  to  me  ?  " 

Jim  had  this  to  say :  which,  divested  of  his  petition  for 
pardon  on  the  strength  of  his  perfect  knowledge  that  he 
took  a  liberty,  was,  that  the  young  lady  had  promised,  while 
staying  at  Wilson's  farm,  that  she  would  sing  to  the  Club- 
fellows  on  the  night  of  their  feast. 

"  I  towl'd  'em  they'd  have  a  rare  treat,  miss,"  mumbled 
Jim,  "  and  they're  all  right  mad  for  't,  that  they  be  —  bain't 
ye,  boys?" 

That  they  were  !  with  not  a  few  of  the  gesticulations  of 
madness  too. 

Emilia  said :  "  I  promised  I  would  sing  to  them.  I  re- 
member it  quite  well.  Of  course  I  will  keep  my  promise." 

A  tumult  of  acclamation  welcomed  her  words,  and  Jim 
looked  immensely  delighted. 

She  was  informed  by  several  voices  that  they  were  the 
Yellow-and-Blues,  and  not  the  Blues :  that  she  must  not  go 
to  the  wrong  set :  and  that  their  booth  was  on  Ipley  Com- 
mon :  and  that  they,  the  Junction  Club,  only  would  honour 
her  rightly  for  the  honour  she  was  going  to  do  them ;  all  of 
which  Emilia  said  she  would  bear  in  mind. 

Jim  then  retired  hastily,  having  done  something  that  stout 


58  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

morning  ale  would  alone  have  qualified  him  to  perform.  The 
drum,  in  the  noble  belief  that  it  was  leading,  announced  the 
return  march,  and  with  three  cheers  for  Squire  Pole,  and  a 
crowning  one  for  the  ladies,  away  trooped  the  procession. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    RIVAL   CLUBS 

HARDLY  had  the  last  sound  of  the  drum  passed  out  of 
hearing,  when  the  elastic  thunder  of  a  fresh  one  claimed 
attention.  The  truth  being,  that  the  Junction  Club  of  Ipley 
and  Hillford,  whose  colours  were  yellow  and  blue,  was  a 
seceder  from  the  old-established  Hillford  Club,  on  which  it 
had  this  day  shamefully  stolen  a  march  by  parading  every- 
where in  the  place  of  it,  and  disputing  not  only  its  pasture- 
grounds  but  its  identity. 

There  is  no  instrument  the  sound  of  which  proclaims  such 
vast  internal  satisfaction  as  the  drum.  I  know  not  whether 
it  be  that  the  sense  we  have  of  the  corpulency  of  this  instru- 
ment predisposes  us  to  imagine  it  supremely  content:  as 
when  an  alderman  is  heard  snoring  the  world  is  assured  that 
it  listens  to  the  voice  of  his  own  exceeding  gratulation.  A 
light  heart  in  a  fat  body  ravishes  not  only  the  world  but  the 
philosopher.  If  monotonous,  the  one  note  of  the  drum  is 
very  correct.  Like  the  speaking  of  great  Nature,  what  it 
means  is  implied  by  the  measure.  When  the  drum  beats 
to  the  measure  of  a  common  human  pulsation  it  has  a  con- 
quering power:  inspiring  us  neither  to  dance  nor  to  trail 
the  members,  but  to  march  as  life  does,  regularly,  and  in 
hearty  good  order,  and  with  a  not  exhaustive  jollity.  It  is 
a  sacred  instrument. 

Now  the  drum  which  is  heard  to  play  in  this  cheerful 
fashion,  while  at  the  same  time  we  know  that  discomfiture 
is  cruelly  harrying  it:  that  its  inmost  feelings  are  wounded, 
and  that  worse  is  in  store  for  it,  affects  the  contemplative 
mind  >  ith  an  inexpressibly  grotesque  commiseration.  Do 
but  listen  to  this  one,  which  is  the  joint  corporate  voice  of 


THE  RIVAL   CLUBS  59 

the  men  of  Hillford.  Outgeneraled,  plundered,  turned  to 
ridicule,  it  thumps  with  unabated  briskness.  Here  indeed 
might  Sentimentalism  shed  a  fertile  tear! 

Anticipating  that  it  will  eventually  be  hung  up  among 
our  national  symbols,  I  proceed.  The  drum  of  Hillford 
entered  the  Brookfield  grounds  as  Ipley  had  done,  and  with 
a  similar  body  of  decorated  Clubmen;  sounding  along  until 
it  faced  the  astonished  proprietor,  who  held  up  his  hand 
and  requested  to  "know  the  purpose  of  the  visit.  One  sen- 
tence of  explanation  sufficed. 

"  What !  "  cried  Mr.  Pole,  "  do  you  think  you  can  milk  a 
cow  twice  in  ten  minutes?" 

Several  of  the  Hillford  men  acknowledged  that  it  would 
be  rather  sharp  work. 

Their  case  was  stated:  whereupon  Mr.  Pole  told  them 
that  he  had  just  been  'milked, '  and  regretted  it,  but  requested 
them  to  see  that  he  could  not  possibly  be  equal  to  any  second 
proceeding  of  the  sort.  On  their  turning  to  consult  together, 
he  advised  them  to  bear  it  with  fortitude.  "  All  right,  sir ! " 
they  said:  and  a  voice  from  the  ranks  informed  him  that 
their  word  was  'Jolly.'  Then  a  signal  was  given,  and  these 
indomitable  fellows  cheered  the  lord  of  Brookfield  as  lustily 
as  if  they  had  accomplished  the  feat  of  milking  him  twice 
in  an  hour.  Their  lively  hurrahs  set  him  blinking  in  extreme 
discomposure  of  spirit,  and  he  was  fumbling  at  his  pocket, 
when  the  drum  a  little  precipitately  thumped :  the  ranks 
fell  into  order,  and  the  departure  was  led  by  the  tune  of  the 
4  King  of  the  Cannibal  islands : '  a  tune  that  is  certain  to 
create  a  chorus  on  the  march.  On  this  occasion,  the  line :  — 

"Oh !  didn't  you  know  you  were  done,  sir?" 

became  general  at  the  winding  up  of  the  tune.  Boys  with 
their  elders  frisked  as  they  chimed  it,  casting  an  emphasis 
of  infinite  relish  on  the  declaration  'done; '  as  if  they  de- 
lighted in  applying  it  to  Mr.  Pole,  though  at  their  own 
expense. 

Soon  a  verse  grew  up :  — 

"  We  march'd  and  call'd  on  Mister  Pole, 
Who  hadn't  a  penny,  upon  his  soul, 
For  Ipley  came  and  took  the  whole, 
And  didn't  you  know  you  were  done,  sir  1 " 


60  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

I  need  not  point  out  to  the  sagacious  that  Hillford  and 
not  Mr.  Pole  had  been  'done; '  but  this  was  the  genius  of 
the  men  who  transferred  the  opprobrium  to  him.  Never- 
theless, though  their  manner  of  welcoming  misfortune  was 
such,  I,  knowing  that  there  is  not  a  deadlier  animal  than 
a  'done'  Briton,  have  shudders  for  Ipley. 

We  relinquish  the  stream  of  an  epic  in  turning  away  from 
these  mighty  drums. 

Mr.  Pole  stood  questioning  all  who  surrounded  him: 
"What  could  I  do?  I  couldn't  subscribe  to  both.  They 
don't  expect  that  of  a  lord,  and  I'm  a  commoner.  If  these 
fellows  quarrel  and  split,  are  we  to  suffer  for  it?  They 
can't  agree,  and  want  us  to  pay  double  fines.  This  is  how 
they  serve  us." 

Mr.  Barrett,  rather  at  a  loss  to  account  for  his  excitement, 
said,  that  it  must  be  admitted  they  had  borne  the  trick 
played  on  them,  with  remarkable  good  humour. 

"  Yes,  but,"  Mr.  Pole  fumed,  "  I  don't.  They  put  me  in 
the  wrong,  between  them.  They  make  me  uncomfortable. 
I've  a  good  mind  to  withdraw  my  subscription  to  those  ras- 
cals who  came  first,  and  have  nothing  to  do  with  any  of 
them.  Then,  you  see,  down  I  go  for  a  niggardly  fellow. 
That's  the  reputation  I  get.  Nothing  of  this  in  London! 
you  make  your  money,  pay  your  rates,  and  nobody  bothers 
a  man." 

"  You  should  have  done  as  our  darling  here  did,  papa, " 
said  Adela.  "  You  should  have  hinted  something  that  might 
be  construed  a  promise  or  not,  as  we  please  to  read  it." 

"If  I  promise  I  perform,"  returned  Mr.  Pole. 

"  Our  Hillford  people  have  cause  for  complaint,"  Mr.  Bar- 
rett observed.  And  to  Emilia:  "You  will  hardly  favour 
one  party  more  than  another,  will  you?" 

"I  am  for  that  poor  man  Jim,"  said  Emilia.  "He  car- 
ried my  harp  evening  after  evening,  and  would  not  even 
take  sixpence  for  the  trouble." 

"Are  you  really  going  to  sing  there?" 

"  Didn't  you  hear?    I  promised." 

"To-night?" 

"Yes;  certainly." 

"  Do  you  know  what  it  is  you  have  promised?  " 
"To  sing." 


THE   RIVAL   CLUBS  61 

Adela  glided  to  her  sisters  near  at  hand,  and  these  ladies 
presently  hemmed  Emilia  in.  They  had  a  method  of  treat- 
ing matters  they  did  not  countenance,  as  if  nature  had  never 
conceived  them,  and  such  were  the  monstrous  issue  of  dis- 
eased imaginations.  It  was  hard  for  Emilia  to  hear  that 
what  she  designed  to  do  was  "utterly  out  of  the  question 
and  not  to  be  for  one  moment  thought  of."  She  reiterated, 
with  the  same  interpreting  stress,  that  she  had  given  her 
promise. 

"Do  you  know,  I  praised  you  for  putting  them  off  so 
cleverly,"  said  Adela  in  tones  of  gentle  reproach  that  be- 
wildered Emilia. 

"  Must  we  remind  you,  then,  that  you  are  bound  by  a  previ- 
ous promise?  "  Cornelia  made  a  counter-demonstration  with 
the  word.  "  Have  you  not  promised  to  dine  with  us  at  Lady 
Gosstre's  to-night?" 

"  Oh,  of  course  I  shall  keep  that,"  replied  Emilia.  "  I  intend 
to.  I  will  sing  there,  and  then  I  will  go  and  sing  to  those 
poor  people,  who  never  hear  anything  but  dreadful  music  — 
not  music  at  all,  but  something  that  seems  to  tear  your  flesh ! " 

"Never  mind  our  flesh,"  said  Adela  pettishly:  melodi- 
ously remonstrating  the  next  instant:  "I  really  thought 
you  could  not  be  in  earnest." 

"But,"  said  Arabella,  "can  you  find  pleasure  in  wasting 
your  voice  and  really  great  capabilities  on  such  people?" 

Emilia  caught  her  up  —  "  This  poor  man?  But  he  loves 
music :  he  really  knows  the  good  from  the  bad.  He  never 
looks  proud  but  when  I  sing  to  him." 

The  situation  was  one  that  Cornelia  particularly  enjoyed. 
Here  was  a  low  form  of  intellect  to  be  instructed  as  to  the 
precise  meaning  of  a  word,  the  nature  of  a  pledge.  "  There 
can  be  no  harm  that  I  see,  in  your  singing  to  this  man,"  she 
commenced.  "You  can  bid  him  come  to  one  of  the  put- 
houses  here,  if  you  desire,  and  sing  to  him.  In  the  evening, 
after  his  labour,  will  be  the  fit  time.  But,  as  your  friends, 
we  cannot  permit  you  to  demean  yourself  by  going  from 
our  house  to  a  public  booth,  where  vulgar  men  are  smoking 
and  drinking  beer.  I  wonder  you  have  the  courage  to  con- 
template such  an  act!  You  have  pledged  your  word.  But 
if  you  had  pledged  your  word,  child,  to  swing  upon  that 
tree,  suspended  by  your  arms,  for  an  hour,  oould  you  keep 


b'ii  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

it?  I  think  not;  and  to  recognize  an  impossibility  econo- 
mizes time  and  is  one  of  the  virtues  of  a  clear  understand- 
ing. It  is  incompatible  that  you  should  dine  with  Lady 
Gosstre,  and  then  run  away  to  a  drinking-booth.  Society 
will  never  tolerate  one  who  is  familiar  with  boors.  If  you 
are  to  succeed  in  life,  as  we,  your  friends,  can  conscientiously 
say  that  we  most  earnestly  hope  and  trust  you  will  do,  you 
must  be  on  good  terms  with  Society.  You  must!  You 
pledge  your  word  to  a  piece  of  folly.  Emancipate  yourself 
from  it  as  quickly  as  possible.  Do  you  see  ?  This  is  fool- 
ish :  it,  therefore,  cannot  be.  Decide,  as  a  sensible  creature." 

At  the  close  of  this  harangue,  Cornelia,  who  had  stooped 
slightly  to  deliver  it,  regained  her  stately  posture,  beautified 
in  Mr.  Barrett's  sight  by  the  flush  which  an  unwonted  exer- 
cise in  speech  had  thrown  upon  her  cheeks. 

Emilia  stood  blinking  like  one  sensible  of  having  been 
chidden  in  a  strange  tongue. 

"Does  it  offend  you  —  my  going?"  she  faltered. 

"Offend! — our  concern  is  entirely  for  you,"  observed 
Cornelia. 

The  explanation  drew  out  a  happy  sparkle  from  Emilia's 
eyes.  She  seized  her  hand,  kissed  it,  and  cried:  "I  do 
thank  you.  I  know  I  promised,  but  indeed  I  am  quite 
pleased  to  go ! " 

Mr.  Barrett  swung  hurriedly  round  and  walked  some  paces 
away  with  his  head  downward.  The  ladies  remained  in  a 
tolerant  attitude  for  a  minute  or  so,  silent.  They  then 
wheeled  with  one  accord,  and  Emilia  was  left  to  herself. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   LADIES    OF    BROOKFIELD    AT    SCHOOL 

Eic  roBD  was  an  easy  drive  from  Brookfield,  through 
lanes  tf  elm  and  white  hawthorn. 

The  ladies  never  acted  so  well  as  when  they  were  in  jie 

icnce  of  a  fact  which  they  acknowledged,  but  did  not 

recognize.     Albeit  constrained  to  admit  that  this  was  the 


THE   LADIES   OF   BBOOKFIELD   AT   SCHOOL  63 

first  occasion  of  their  ever  being  on  their  way  to  the  dinner- 
table  of  a  person  of  quality,  they  could  refuse  to  look  the 
admission  in  the  face.  A  peculiar  lightness  of  heart  beset 
them;  for  brooding  ambition  is  richer  in  that  first  realizing 
step  it  takes,  insignificant  though  it  seem,  than  in  any  sub- 
sequent achievement.  I  fear  to  say  that  the  hearts  of  the 
ladies  boiled,  because  visages  so  sedate,  and  voices  so  monoto- 
nously indifferent,  would  witness  decidedly  against  me. 
The  common  avoidance  of  any  allusion  to  Bichford  testified 
to  the  direction  of  their  thoughts :  and  the  absence  of  a  sign 
of  exultation  may  be  accepted  as  a  proof  of  the  magnitude 
of  that  happiness  of  which  they  might  not  exhibit  a  feature. 
The  effort  to  repress  it  must  have  cost  them  horrible  pain. 
Adela,  the  youngest  of  the  three,  transferred  her  inward 
joy  to  the  cottage  children,  whose  staring  faces  from  garden 
porch  and  gate  flashed  by  the  carriage  windows.  "How 
delighted  they  look ! "  she  exclaimed  more  than  once,  and 
informed  her  sisters  that  a  country  life  was  surely  the  next 
thing  to  Paradise.  "  Those  children  do  look  so  happy !  " 
Thus  did  the  weak  one  cunningly  relieve  herself.  Arabella 
occupied  her  mind  by  giving  Emilia  leading  hints  for  con- 
duct in  the  great  house.  "  On  the  whole,  though  there  is 
no  harm  in  your  praising  particular  dishes,  as  you  do  ?* 
home,  it  is  better  in  society  to  say  nothing  on  those  subject1* 
until  your  opinion  is  asked :  and  when  you  speak,  it  should 
be  as  one  who  passes  the  subject  by.  Appreciate  flavours, 
but  no  dwelling  on  them !  The  degrees  of  an  expression  of 
approbation,  naturally  enough,  vary  with  age.  Did  my 
instinct  prompt  me  to  the  discussion  of  these  themes,  I 
should  be  allowed  greater  licence  than  you."  And  here 
Arabella  was  unable  to  resist  a  little  bit  of  the  indulgence 
Adela  had  taken :  "  You  are  sure  to  pass  a  most  agreeable 
evening,  and  one  that  you  will  remember." 

North  Pole  sat  high  above  such  petty  consolation ;  seldom 
speaking,  save  just  to  show  that  her  ideas  ranged  at  lib- 
erty, and  could  be  spontaneously  sympathetic  on  selected 
topics. 

Their  ceremonious  entrance  to  the  state-room  of  Kichford 
accomplished,  the  ladies  received  the  greeting  of  the  affable 
hostess;  quietly  perturbed,  but  not  enough  so  to  disorder 
their  artistic  contemplation  of  her  open  actions,  choice  of 


64  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

phrase,  and  by-play.  Without  communication  or  pre- 
arrangement,  each  knew  that  the  other  would  not  let  slip 
the  opportunity,  and,  after  the  first  five  minutes  of  languid 
general  converse,  they  were  mentally  at  work  comparing 
notes  with  one  another's  imaginary  conversations,  while 
they  said  "Yes,"  and  "Indeed,"  and  "I  think  so,"  and 
appeared  to  belong  to  the  world  about  them. 

"  Merthyr,  I  do  you  the  honour  to  hand  this  young  lady 
to  your  charge,"  said  Lady  Gosstre,  putting  on  equal  terms 
with  Emilia  a  gentleman  of  perhaps  five-and-thirty  years ; 
who  reminded  her  of  Mr.  Barrett,  but  was  unclouded  by 
that  look  of  firm  sadness  which  characterized  the  poor 
organist.  Mr.  Powys  was  a  travelled  Welsh  squire,  Lady 
Gosstre's  best  talker,  on  whom,  as  Brookfield  learnt  to  see, 
she  could  perfectly  rely  to  preserve  the  child  from  any  little 
drawing-room  sins  or  dinner-table  misadventures.  This 
gentleman  had  made  sacrifices  for  the  cause  of  Italy,  in 
money,  and,  it  was  said,  in  blood.  He  knew  the  country 
and  loved  the  people.  Brookfield  remarked  that  there  was 
just  a  foreign  tinge  in  his  manner;  and  that  his  smile, 
though  social  to  a  degree  unknown  to  the  run  of  English 
faces,  did  not  give  him  all  to  you,  and  at  a  second  glance 
seemed  plainly  to  say  that  he  reserved  much. 

Adela  fell  to  the  lot  of  a  hussar-captain:  a  celebrated 
beauty,  not  too  foolish.  She  thought  it  proper  to  punish 
him  for  his  good  looks  till  propitiated  by  his  good  temper. 
Nobody  at  Brookfield  could  remember  afterwards  who  took 
Arabella  down  to  dinner ;  she  declaring  that  she  had  forgotten. 
Her  sisters,  not  unwilling  to  see  insignificance  banished  to 
annihilation,  said  that  it  must  have  been  nobody  in  person, 
and  that  he  was  a  very  useful  guest  when  ladies  were  en- 
gaged. Cornelia  had  a  different  lot.  She  leaned  on  the 
right  arm  of  the  Member  for  Hillford,  that  statistical  de- 
ar, Sir  Twickenham  Pryme,  who  had  twice  before,  as  he 


i  nave  come  round  to  your  way  of  thinking 
8  regards  hustings  addresses,"  he  said.     "In  nine  cases 
of  ten  — at  least,  nineteen-twentieths  of  the  House  will 
iish  instances -one  can  only,  as  you  justly  observed, 
appeal  to  the  comprehension  of  the  mob  by  pledging  oneself 


THE   LADIES   OF   BROOKFIELD   AT   SCHOOL  65 

either  to  their  appetites  or  passions,  and  it  is  better  plainly 
to  state  the  case  and  put  it  to  them  in  figures."  Whether 
the  Baronet  knew  what  he  was  saying  is  one  matter:  he 
knew  what  he  meant. 

Wilfrid  was  cavalier  to  Lady  Charlotte  Chillingworth,  of 
Stornley,  about  ten  miles  distant  from  Hillford;  ninth 
daughter  of  a  nobleman  who  passed  current  as  the  Poor 
Marquis ;  he  having  been  ruined  when  almost  a  boy  in  Paris, 
by  the  late  illustrious  Lord  Dartford.  Her  sisters  had  mar- 
ried captains  in  the  army  and  navy,  lawyers,  and  parsons, 
impartially.  Lady  Charlotte  was  nine-and-twenty  years  of 
age;  with  clear  and  telling  stone-blue  eyes,  firm  but  not 
unsweet  lips,  slightly  hollowed  cheeks,  and  a  jaw  that  cer- 
tainly tended  to  be  square.  Her  colour  was  healthy.  Walk- 
ing or  standing  her  figure  was  firmly  poised.  Her  chief 
attraction  was  a  bell-toned  laugh,  fresh  as  a  meadow  spring. 
She  had  met  Wilfrid  once  in  the  hunting-field,  so  they  soon 
had  common  ground  to  run  on. 

Mr.  Powys  made  Emilia  happy  by  talking  to  her  of  Italy, 
in  the  intervals  of  table  anecdotes. 

"Why  did  you  leave  it?"  she  said. 

"  I  found  I  had  more  shadows  than  the  one  allotted  me 
by  nature ;  and  as  I  was  accustomed  to  a  black  one,  and  not 
half  a  dozen  white,  I  was  fairly  frightened  out  of  the 
country." 

"  You  mean,  Austrians." 

"I  do." 

"Do  you  hate  them?" 

"Not  at  all." 

"Then,  how  can  you  love  the  Italians?" 

"They  themselves  have  taught  me  to  do  both;  to  love 
them  and  not  to  hate  their  enemies.  Your  Italians  are  the 
least  vindictive  of  all  races  of  men." 

"  Merthyr,  Merthyr !  "  went  Lady  Gosstre ;  Lady  Char- 
lotte murmuring  aloud :  "  And  in  the  third  chapter  of  the 
Book  of  Paradox  you  will  find  these  words." 

"We  afford  a  practical  example  and  forgive  them,  do  we 
not  ?  "  Mr.  Powys  smiled  at  Emilia. 

She  looked  round  her,  and  reddened  a  little. 

"  So  long  as  you  do  not  write  that  Christian  word  with 
the  point  of  a  stiletto !  "  said  Lady  Charlotte. 


66  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

"  You  are  not  mad  about  the  Italians?  "  Wilfrid  addressed 
her. 

••  N'ot  mad  about  anything,  I  hope.  If  I  am  to  choose, 
I  prefer  the  Austrians.  A  very  gentlemanly  set  of  men! 
At  least,  so  I  find  them  always.  Capital  horsemen!  " 

"I  will  explain  to  you  how  it  must  be,"  said  Mr.  Powys 
to  Emilia.  "An  artistic  people  cannot  hate  long.  Hotly 
for  the  time,  but  the  oppression  gone,  and  even  in  the  dream 
of  its  going,  they  are  too  human  to  be  revengeful." 

"Do  we  understand  such  very  deep  things?"  said  Lady 
Gosstre,  who  was  near  enough  to  hear  clearly. 

"  Yes :  for  if  I  ask  her  whether  she  can  hate  when  her 
mind  is  given  to  music,  she  knows  that  she  cannot.  She 
can  love." 

"Yet  I  think  I  have  heard  some  Italian  operatic  spitfires, 
and  of  some !  "  said  Lady  Charlotte. 

"  What  opinion  do  you  pronounce  in  this  controversy?  " 
Cornelia  made  appeal  to  Sir  Twickenham. 

There  are  multitudes  of  cases,"  he  began:  and  took  up 
another  end  of  his  statement :  "  It  has  been  computed  that 
five-and-twenty  murders  per  month  to  a  population  .... 
to  a  population  of  ninety  thousand  souls,  is  a  fair  reckon- 
ing in  a  Southern  latitude." 

'Then  we  must  allow  for  the  latitude?" 

1 1  think  so." 

1  And  also  for  the  space  into  which  the  ninety  thousand 
souls  are  packed,"  quoth  Tracy  Runningbrook 

'Well!  well!"  went  Sir  Twickenham. 
The  knife  is  the  law  to  an  Italian  of  the  South,"  said 
Mr.  Powys.  "  He  distrusts  any  other,  because  he  never  gets 
it.  Where  law  is  established,  or  tolerably  secure,  the  knife 
is  not  used.  Duels  are  rare.  There  is  too  much  bonhomie 
for  the  point  of  honour." 

"  I  should  like  to  believe  that  all  men  are  as  just  to  their 
mistresses,"  Lady  Charlotte  sighed,  mock-earnestly. 

Presently  Emilia  touched  the  arm  of  Mr.  Powys.     She 
looked  agitated.     "  I  want  to  be  told  the  name  of  that  gen- 
ii is  eyes  were  led  to  rest  on  the  handsome  hus- 
sar-captain. 

"Do  you  know  him?" 

"But  his  pamet" 


THE   LADIES   OF   BBOOKFIELD   AT   SCHOOL          67 

"Do  me  the  favour  to  look  at  me.     Captain  Gambler." 

"It  is!" 

Captain  Gambler's  face  was  resolutely  kept  in  profile  to 
her. 

"  I  hear  a  rumour,"  said  Lady  Gosstre  to  Arabella,  "that 
you  think  of  bidding  for  the  Besworth  estate.  Are  you 
tired  of  Brookfield?" 

"  Not  tired ;  but  Brookfield  is  modern,  and  I  confess  that 
Besworth  has  won  my  heart." 

"  I  shall  congratulate  myself  on  having  you  nearer  neigh- 
bours. Have  you  many,  or  any  rivals?" 

"  There  is  some  talk  of  the  Tinleys  wishing  to  purchase 
it.  I  cannot  see  why." 

"What  people  are  they?"  asked  Lady  Charlotte.  "Do 
they  hunt?" 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !  They  are  to  society  what  Dissenters  are 
to  religion.  I  can't  describe  them  otherwise." 

"They  pass  before  me  in  that  description,"  said  Lady 
Gosstre. 

"Besworth's  an  excellent  centre  for  hunting,"  Lady  Char- 
lotte remarked  to  Wilfrid.  "  I've  always  had  an  affection 
for  that  place.  The  house  is  on  gravel;  the  river  has  trout; 
there's  a  splendid  sweep  of  grass  for  the  horses  to  exercise. 
I  think  there  must  be  sixteen  spare  beds.  At  all  events,  I 
know  that  number  can  be  made  up ;  so  that  if  you're  too 
poor  to  live  much  in  London,  you  can  always  have  your  set 
about  you." 

The  eyes  of  the  fair  economist  sparkled  as  she  dwelt  on 
these  particular  advantages  of  Besworth. 

Richford  boasted  a  show  of  flowers  that  might  tempt  its 
guests  to  parade  the  grounds  on  balmy  evenings.  Wilfrid 
kept  by  the  side  of  Lady  Charlotte.  She  did  not  win  his 
taste  a  bit.  Had  she  been  younger,  less  decided  in  tone, 
and  without  a  title,  it  is  very  possible  that  she  would  have 
offended  his  native,  secret,  and  dominating  fastidiousness 
as  much  as  did  Emilia.  Then,  what  made  him  subject  at 
all  to  her  influence,  as  he  felt  himself  beginning  to  be? 
She  supplied  a  deficiency  in  the  youth.  He  was  growing 
and  uncertain:  she  was  set  and  decisive.  In  his  soul  he 
adored  the  extreme  refinement  of  woman,  even  up  to  the 
thin  edge  of  inanity  (which  neighbours  what  the  philoso- 


68  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

pher  could  tell  him  if  he  would,  and  would,  if  it  were  per- 
mitted to  him).  Nothing  was  too  white,  too  saintly,  or  too 
misty,  for  his  conception  of  abstract  woman.  But  the  prac- 
tical wants  of  our  nature  guide  us  best.  Conversation  with 
Lady  Charlotte  seemed  to  strengthen  and  ripen  him.  He 
blushed  with  pleasure  when  she  said :  "  I  remember  reading 
your  name  in  the  account  of  that  last  cavalry  charge  on  the 
Dewan.  You  slew  a  chief,  I  think.  That  was  creditable, 
for  they  are  swordmen.  Cavalry  in  Europe  can't  win 
much  honour  —  not  individual  honour,  I  mean.  I  suppose 
being  part  of  a  victorious  machine  is  exhilarating.  I  con- 
fess I  should  not  think  much  of  wearing  that  sort  of  feather. 
It's  right  to  do  one's  duty,  comforting  to  trample  down  op- 
position, and  agreeable  to  shed  blood;  but  when  you  have 
matched  yourself  man  to  man,  and  beaten  —  why,  then,  I 
dub  you  knight." 

Wilfrid  bowed,  half-laughing,  in  a  luxurious  abandon- 
ment to  his  sensations.  Possibly  because  of  their  rule 
over  him  then,  the  change  in  him  was  so  instant  from  flat- 
tered delight  to  vexed  perplexity.  Rounding  one  of  the 
rhododendron  banks,  just  as  he  lifted  his  head  from  that 
acknowledgment  of  the  lady's  commendation,  he  had  sight 
of  Emilia  with  her  hand  in  the  hand  of  Captain  Gambier. 
What  could  it  mean?  what  right  had  he  to  hold  her  hand? 
Even  if  he  knew  her,  what  right? 

The  words  between  Emilia  and  Captain  Gambier  were  few. 

"Why  did  I  not  look  at  you  during  dinner?"  said  he. 
"  Was  it  not  better  to  wait  till  we  could  meet?  " 

"Then  you  will  walk  with  me  and  talk  to  me  all  the 
evening?" 

"  No :  but  I  will  try  and  come  down  here  next  week  and 
meet  you  again." 

"Are  you  going  to-night?" 

X  Co* 

"To-night?    To-night  before  it  strikes  a  quarter  to  ten. 

1  am  going  to  leave  here  alone.     If  you  would  come  with 

6J  T  1  *?"?.,*  wnP^io*-     I  know  they  will  not  hurt  me, 

rat  I  don  t  like  being  alone.      I  have  given  my  promise  to 

•ing  to  some  poor  people.     My  friends  say  I  must  not  go. 

must  go.     I  can't  break  a  promise  to  poor  people.     And 

you  have  never  heard  me  really  sin?  my  best-      Come  with 

me.  and  I  will " 


THE   LADIES   OP   BBOOKFIELD   AT  SCHOOL  69 

Captain  Gambler  required  certain  explanations.  He  saw 
that  a  companion  and  protection  would  be  needed  by  his 
curious  little  friend,  and  as  she  was  resolved  not  to  break 
her  word,  he  engaged  to  take  her  in  the  carriage  that  was 
to  drive  him  to  the  station. 

"You  make  me  give  up  an  appointment  in  town,"  he 
said. 

"Ah,  but  you  will  hear  me  sing,"  returned  Emilia. 
"We  will  drive  to  Brookfield  and  get  my  harp,  and  then 
to  Ipley  Common.  I  am  to  be  sure  you  will  be  ready  with 
the  carriage  at  just  a  quarter  to  ten?" 

The  captain  gave  her  his  assurance,  and  they  separated; 
he  to  seek  out  Adela,  she  to  wander  about,  the  calmest  of 
conspirators  against  the  serenity  of  a  household. 

Meeting  Wilfrid  and  Lady  Charlotte,  Emilia  was  asked 
by  him,  who  it  was  she  had  quitted  so  abruptly. 

"  That  is  the  gentleman  I  told  you  of.  Now  I  know  his 
name.  It  is  Captain  Gambier." 

She  was  allowed  to  pass  on. 

"What  is  this  she  says?"  Lady  Charlotte  asked. 

"It  appears  .  .  .  something  about  a  meeting  somewhere 
accidentally,  in  the  park,  in  London,  I  think;  I  really  don't 
know.  She  had  forgotten  his  name." 

Lady  Charlotte  spurred  him  with  an  interrogative 
"Yes?" 

"She  wanted  to  remember  his  name.  That's  all.  He 
was  kind  to  her." 

"But,  after  all,"  remonstrated  Lady  Charlotte,  "that's 
only  a  characteristic  of  young  men,  is  it  not?  no  special 
distinction.  You  are  all  kind  —  to  girls,  to  women,  to 
anything ! " 

Captain  Gambier  and  Adela  crossed  their  path.  He 
spoke  a  passing  word,  Lady  Charlotte  returned  no  answer, 
and  was  silent  to  her  companion  for  some  minutes.  Then 
she  said,  "If  you  feel  any  responsibility  about  this  little 
person,  take  my  advice,  and  don't  let  her  have  appoint- 
ments and  meetings.  They're  bad  in  any  case,  and  for  a 
girl  who  has  no  brother  —  has  she?  no:  —  well  then,  you 
should  make  the  best  provision  you  can  against  the  coward- 
ice of  men.  Most  men  are  cowards." 

Emilia  sang  in  the  drawing-room.     Brookfield  knew  per- 


70  EMILIA   EN   ENGLAND 

fectly  why  she  looked  indifferent  to  the  plaudits,  and  was 
not  dissatisfied  at  hearing  Lady  Gosstre  say  that  she  was  a 
little  below  the  mark.  The  kindly  lady  brought  Emilia 
between  herself  and  Mr.  Powys,  saying,  "I  don't  intend  to 
let  you  be  the  star  of  the  evening  and  outshine  us  all." 
After  which,  conversation  commenced,  and  Brookfield  had 
reason  to  admire  her  ladyship's  practised  play  upon  the 
social  instrument,  surely  the  grandest  of  all,  the  chords 
being  men  and  women.  Consider  what  an  accomplishment 
this  is! 

Albeit  Brookfield  knew  itself  a  student  at  Kichford, 
Adela  was  of  too  impatient  a  wit  to  refrain  from  little 
ventures  toward  independence,  if  not  rivalry.  "What  we 
do,"  she  uttered  distinctively  once  or  twice.  Among  other 
things  she  spoke  of  "our  discovery,"  to  attest  her  declara- 
tion that,  to  wakeful  eyes,  neither  Hillford  nor  any  other 
place  on  earth  was  dull.  Cornelia  flushed  at  hearing  the 
name  of  Mr.  Barrett  pronounced  publicly  by  her  sister. 

"An  organist  an  accomplished  man!"  Lady  Gosstre  re- 
peated Adela's  words.  "Well,  I  suppose  it  is  possible, 
out  it  rather  upsets  one's  notions,  does  it  not?" 

"Yes,  but  agreeably,"  said  Adela,  with  boldness;  and 
related  how  he  had  been  introduced,  and  hinted  that  he 
was  going  to  be  patronized. 

"  The  man  cannot  maintain  himself  on  the  income  that 
sort  of  office  brings  him,"  Lady  Gosstre  observed. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Adela.  "I  fancy  he  does  it  simply  for 
some  sort  of  occupation.  One  cannot  help  imagining  a 
disguise." 

"  Personally  I  confess  to  an  objection  to  gentlemen  in  dis- 
guise," said  Lady  Gosstre.  "Barrett!  —  do  you  know  the 
man?" 

She  addressed  Mr.  Powys. 

"  There  used  to  be  good  quartett  evenings  given  by  the 

Barretts  of  Bursey, "  he  said.     "  Sir  Justinian  Barrett  mar- 

i  a  Miss  Purcell,  who  subsequently  preferred  the  musi- 

ishraents  of  a  foreign  professor  of  the  Art." 
Furcell  Barrett  is  his  name,"  said  Adela.    "  Our  Emilia 
brought  him  to  us.     Where  is  she?    But,  where  can  she 

Adela  rose. 


THE  LADIES   OF   BBOOKFIELD   AT   SCHOOL  71 

"She  pressed  my  hand  just  now,"  said  Lady  Gosstre. 

"She  was  here  when  Captain  Gambier  quitted  the  room," 
Arabella  remarked. 

"  Good  heaven !  " 

The  exclamation  came  from  Adela. 

"  Oh,  Lady  Gosstre !  I  fear  to  tell  you  what  I  think  she 
has  done." 

The  scene  of  the  rival  Clubs  was  hurriedly  related,  to- 
gether with  the  preposterous  pledge  given  by  Emilia,  that 
she  would  sing  at  the  Ipley  Booth :  "  Among  those  dreadful 
men!" 

"They  will  treat  her  respectfully,"  said  Mr  Powys. 

"Worship  her,  I  should  imagine,  Merthyr,"  said  Lady 
Gosstre.  "  For  all  that,  she  had  better  be  away.  Beer  is 
not  a  respectful  spirit." 

"  I  trust  you  will  pardon  her, "  Arabella  pleaded.  "  Every- 
thing that  explanations  of  the  impropriety  of  such  a  thing 
could  do,  we  have  done.  We  thought  that  at  last  we  had 
convinced  her.  She  is  quite  untamed." 

Mr.  Powys  now  asked  where  this  place  was  that  she  had 
hurried  to. 

The  unhappy  ladies  of  Brookfield,  quick  as  they  were  to 
read  every  sign  surrounding  them,  were  for  the  moment  too 
completely  thrown  off  their  balance  by  Emilia's  extraordi- 
nary exhibition  of  will,  to  see  that  no  reflex  of  her  shameful 
and  hideous  proceeding  had  really  fallen  upon  them.  Their 
exclamations  were  increasing,  until  Adela,  who  had  been 
the  noisiest,  suddenly  adopted  Lady  Gosstre's  tone.  "If 
she  has  gone,  I  suppose  she  must  be  simply  fetched  away." 

"Do  you  see  what  has  happened?"  Lady  Charlotte  mur- 
mured to  Wilfrid,  between  a  phrase. 

He  stumbled  over  a  little  piece  of  gallantry. 

"Excellent!  But,  say  those  things  in  French.  —  Your 
dark-eyed  maid  has  eloped.  She  left  the  room  five  min- 
utes after  Captain  Gambier." 

Wilfrid  sprang  to  his  feet,  looking  eagerly  to  the  corners 
of  the  room. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said,  and  moved  up  to  Lady  Gosstre. 
On  the  way,  he  questioned  himself  why  his  heart  should  be 
beating  at  such  a  pace.  Standing  at  her  ladyship's  feet,  he 
could  scarcely  speak. 


•fJS  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

"Yes,  Wilfrid;  go  after  her,"  said  Adela,  divining  hig 
object. 

"By  all  means,  go,"  added  Lady  Gosstre.  "Now  she  is 
there,  you  may  as  well  let  her  keep  her  promise;  and  then 
hurry  her  home.  They  will  saddle  you  a  horse  down 
below,  if  you  care  to  have  one." 

Wilfrid  thanked  her  ladyship,  and  declined  the  horse. 
He  was  soon  walking  rapidly  under  a  rough  sky  in  the 
direction  of  Ipley,  with  no  firm  thought  that  he  would  find 
Emilia  there. 


CHAPTER  XI 

IN  WHICH  WK  SEE   THE  MAGNANIMITY   THAT   IS   IN  BEER 

AT  half-past  nine  of  the  clock  on  the  evening  of  this 
memorable  day,  a  body  of  five-and-twenty  stout  young 
fellows,  prize-runners,  wrestlers,  boxers,  and  topers,  of 
the  Hillford  Club,  set  forth  on  a  march  to  Ipley  Com- 


mon. 


Now,  a  foreigner,  hearing  of  their  destination  and  the 
provocation  they  had  endured,  would  have  supposed  that 
they  were  bent  upon  deeds  of  vengeance;  and  it  requires 
knowledge  of  our  countrymen  to  take  it  as  a  fact  that  the 
idea  and  aim  of  the  expedition  were  simply  to  furnish  the 
offending  Ipley  boys  a  little  music.     Such  were  the  idea 
and  the  aim.     Hillford  had  nothing  to  do  with  conse- 
quences: no  more  than  our  England  is  responsible  when 
she  sails  out  among  the  empires  and  hemispheres,  saying, 
buy '  and  'sell,'  and  they  clamour  to  be  eaten  up  entire. 
Foreigners  pertinaciously  misunderstand  us.     They  have 
the  barbarous  habit  of  judging  by  results.     Let  us  know 
ourselves  better.      It  is  melancholy  to  contemplate  the 
tvigOM,  and  vile  designs,  and  vengeances  of  other  nations; 
1  more  so,  after  we  have  written  so  many  pages  of 
slhgible  history,  to  see  them  attributed  to  us.     Will  it 
lever  be  perceived  that  we  do  not  sow  the  thing  that  hap- 
The  source  of  the  flooding  stream  which  drinks  up 
those  rich  acres  of  low  flat  land  is  not  more  innocent  tha£ 


THE  MAGNJLNIMITT   IN  BEER  73 

we.  If,  as  does  seem  possible,  we  are  in  a  sort  of  alliance 
with  Destiny,  we  have  signed  no  compact,  and  accomplish 
our  work  as  solidly  and  merrily  as  a  wood-hatchet  in  the- 
hands  of  the  woodman.  This  arrangement  to  give  Ipley 
a  little  music,  was  projected  as  a  return  for  the  favours  of 
the  morning:  nor  have  I  in  my  time  heard  anything  com- 
parable to  it  in  charity  of  sentiment,  when  I  consider  the 
detestable  outrage  Hillford  suffered  under. 

The  parading  of  the  drum,  the  trombone,  a  horn,  two> 
whistles,  and  a  fife,  in  front  of  Hillford  booth,  caught  the 
fancy  of  the  Clubmen,  who  roared  out  parting  adjurations 
that  the  music  was  not  to  be  spared;  and  that  Tom  B  reeks 
was  a  musical  fellow,  with  a  fine  empty  pate,  if  any  one  of 
the  instruments  should  fail  perchance.  They  were  to  give 
Ipley  plenty  of  music :  for  Ipley  wanted  to  be  taught  har- 
mony. Harmony  was  Ipley's  weak  point.  "Gie  'em," 
said  one  jolly  ruddy  Hillford  man,  "  gie  'em  whack  fol,  lol! " 
And  he  smacked  himself,  and  set  toward  an  invisible  part- 
ner. Nor,  as  recent  renowned  historians  have  proved,  are 
observations  of  this  nature  beneath  the  dignity  of  chronicle. 
They  vindicate,  as  they  localize,  the  sincerity  of  Hillford. 

Really,  to  be  an  islander  full  of  ale,  is  to  be  the  kindest 
creature  on  or  off  two  legs.  For  that  very  reason,  it  may 
be,  his  wrath  at  bad  blood  is  so  easily  aroused.  In  our  hot 
moods  we  would  desire  things  like  unto  ourselves,  and 
object  violently  to  whatsoever  is  unlike.  And  also  we 
desire  that  the  benefits  we  shed  be  appreciated.  If  Ipley 
understands  neither  our  music  nor  our  intent,  haply  we 
must  hold  a  performance  on  the  impenetrable  sconce  of 
Ipley. 

At  the  hour  named,  the  expedition,  with  many  a  promise 
that  the  music  should  be  sweet,  departed  hilariously :  Will 
Burdock,  the  left-handed  cricketer  and  hard-hitter,  being 
leader;  with  Peter  Bartholomew,  potboy,  John  Girling, 
miller's  man,  and  Ned  Thewk,  gardener's  assistant,  for 
lieutenants.  On  the  march,  silence  was  proclaimed,  and 
partially  enforced,  after  two  fights  against  authority. 
Near  the  sign  of  King  William's  Head,  General  Burdock 
called  a  halt,  and  betrayed  irresolution  with  reference  to 
the  route  to  be  adopted ;  but  as  none  of  his  troop  could  at 
all  share  such  a  condition  of  mind  in  the  neighbourhood  of 


74  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

an  inn,  he  was  permitted  to  debate  peacefully  with  his 
lieutenants,  while  the  rest  burst  through  the  doors  and 
hailed  the  landlord :  a  proceeding  he  was  quickly  induced 
to  imitate.  Thus,  when  the  tail  shows  strongest  decision 
of  purpose,  the  head  must  follow. 

An  accurate  oinometer,  or  method  of  determining  what 
chall  be  the  condition  of  the  spirit  of  man  according  to  the 
degrees  of  wine  or  beer  in  him,  were  surely  of  priceless 
service  to  us.  For  now  must  we,  to  be  certain  of  our  sanity 
and  dignity,  abstain,  which  is  to  clip,  impoverish,  imprison, 
the  soul :  or  else,  taking  wings  of  wine,  we  go  aloft  over 
capes,  and  islands,  and  seas,  but  are  even  as  balloons  that 
cannot  make  for  any  line,  and  are  at  the  mercy  of  the 
winds  —  without  a  choice,  save  to  come  down  by  virtue  of 
a  collapse.  Could  we  say  to  ourselves,  in  the  great  style, 
This  is  the  point  where  desire  to  embrace  humanity  is 
merged  in  vindictiveness  toward  individuals :  where  radiant 
sweet  temper  culminates  in  tremendous  wrath :  where  the 
treasures  of  anticipation,  waxing  riotous,  arouse  the  memory 
of  wrongs :  in  plain  words,  could  we  know  positively,  and 
from  the  hand  of  science,  when  we  have  had  enough,  we 
should  stop.  There  is  not  a  doubt  that  we  should  stop.  It 
is  so  true  we  should  stop,  that,  I  am  ready  to  say,  ladies 
have  no  right  to  call  us  horrid  names,  and  complain  of  us, 
till  they  have  helped  us  to  some  such  trustworthy  scientific 
instrument  as  this  which  I  have  called  for.  In  its  absence, 
I  am  persuaded  that  the  true  natural  oinometer  is  the  hat. 
Were  the  hat  always  worn  during  potation;  were  ladies 
when  they  retire  to  place  it  on  our  heads,  or,  better  still, 
chaplets  of  flowers ;  then,  like  the  wise  ancients,  we  should 
be  able  to  tell  to  a  nicety  how  far  we  had  advanced  in  our 
dithyramb  to  the  theme  of  fuddle  and  muddle.  Unhappily 
the  hat  does  not  forewarn:  it  is  simply  indicative.  I 
believe,  nevertheless,  that  science  might  set  to  work  upon 
it  forthwith,  and  found  a  system.  When  you  mark  men 
drinking  who  wear  their  hats,  and  those  hats  are  seen 
gradually  beginning  to  hang  on  the  backs  of  their  heads, 
as  from  pegs,  in  the  fashion  of  a  fez,  the  bald  projection  of 
forehead  looks  jolly  and  frank:  distrust  that  sign:  the 
may-fly  of  the  soul  is  then  about  to  be  gobbled  up  by  the 
Chub  of  the  passions.  A  hat  worn  fez-fashion  is  a  danger- 


THE  MAGNANIMITY   IN   BEEB  75 

ous  hat.  A  hat  on  the  brows  shows  a  man  who  can  take 
more,  but  thinks  he  will  go  home  instead,  and  does  so, 
peaceably.  That  is  his  determination.  He  may  look  like 
Macduff,  but  he  is  a  lamb.  The  vinous  reverses  the  non- 
vinous  passionate  expression  of  the  hat.  If  I  am  dis- 
credited, I  appeal  to  history,  which  tells  us  that  the  hats 
of  the  Hillford  five-and-twenty  were  all  exceedingly  hind- 
ward-set  when  the  march  was  resumed.  It  followed  that 
Peter  Bartholomew,  potboy,  made  irritable  objections  to 
that  old  joke  which  finished  his  name  as  though  it  were  a 
cat  calling,  and  the  offence  being  repeated,  he  dealt  an  im- 
partial swing  of  his  stick  at  divers  heads,  and  told  them  to 
take  that,  which  they  assured  him  they  had  done  by  send- 
ing him  flying  into  a  hedge.  Peter,  being  reprimanded  by 
his  commanding  officer,  acknowledged  a  hot  desire  to  try 
his  mettle,  and  the  latter  responsible  person  had  to  be 
restrained  from  granting  the  wish  he  cherished  by  John 
Girling,  whom  he  threw  for  his  trouble:  and  as  Burdock 
was  the  soundest  hitter,  numbers  cried  out  against  Girling, 
revolting  him  with  a  sense  of  overwhelming  injustice  that 
could  be  appeased  only  by  his  prostrating  two  stout  lads 
and  squaring  against  a  third,  who  came  up  from  a  cross- 
road. This  one  knocked  him  down  with  the  gentleness  of 
a  fist  that  knows  how  Beer  should  be  treated,  and  then  sang 
out,  in  the  voice  of  Wilfrid  Pole :  "  Which  is  the  nearest 
way  to  Ipley,  you  fellows?" 

"Come  along  with  us,  sir,  and  we'll  show  you,"  said 
Burdock. 

"Are  you  going  there?" 

"Well,  that's  pretty  clear." 

"Hillford  men,  are  you?" 

"We've  left  the  women  behind." 

"I'm  in  a  hurry,  so,  good  night." 

"And  so  are  we  in  a  hurry,  sir.  But,  you're  a  gentle- 
man, and  we  want  to  give  them  chaps  at  Ipley  a  little  sur- 
prise, d'ye  see,  in  the  way  of  a  dollop  o'  music:  and  if  you 
won't  go  givin'  'em  warning,  you  may  trot;  and  that  road'll 
take  you." 

"All  right,"  said  Wilfrid,  now  fairly  divided  between 
his  jealousy  of  Gambier  and  anxiety  for  Emilia. 

Could  her  artist  nature,  of  which  he  had  heard  perplex^ 


76  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

ing  talk,  excuse  her  and  make  her  heart  absolutely  guiltless 
(what  he  called  "innocent"),  in  trusting  herself  to  any 
man's  honour?  I  regret  to  say  that  the  dainty  adorers  of 
the  sex  are  even  thus  grossly  suspicious  of  all  women  when 
their  sentiment  is  ever  so  triflingly  offended. 

Lights  on  Ipley  Common  were  seen  from  a  rise  of  the  hilly 
road.  The  moon  was  climbing  through  drifts  of  torn  black 
cloud.  Hastening  his  pace,  for  a  double  reason  now,  Wil- 
frid had  the  booth  within  hearing,  listened  a  moment;  and 
Mien  stood  fast.  His  unconscious  gasp  of  the  words: 
"Thank  God;  there  she  is!"  might  have  betrayed  him  to 
another. 

She  was  sitting  near  one  end  of  the  booth,  singing  as 
Wilfrid  had  never  yet  heard  her  sing :  her  dark  eyes  flash- 
ing. Behind  her  stood  Captain  Gambier,  keeping  guard 
with  all  the  composure  of  a  gentleman-usher  at  a  royal 
presentation.  Along  the  tables,  men  and  women  were 
ranged  facing  her;  open-mouthed,  some  of  them:  but  for 
the  most  part  wearing  a  predetermined  expression  of 
applausive  judgement,  as  who  should  say,  "Queer,  but 
good."  They  gave  Emilia  their  faces,  which  was  all  she 
wanted !  and  silence,  save  for  an  intermingling  soft  snore, 
here  and  there,  the  elfin  trumpet  of  silence.  To  tell  truth, 
certain  heads  had  bowed  low  to  the  majesty  of  beer,  and 
were  down  on  the  table  between  sprawling  doubled  arms. 
No  essay  on  the  power  of  beer  could  exhibit  it  more  con- 
rincingly  than  the  happy  indifference  with  which  they 
received  admonishing  blows  from  quart-pots,  salutes  from 
hot  pipe-bowls,  pricks  from  pipe-ends,  on  nose,  and  cheek, 
and  pate;  as  if  to  vindicate  for  their  beloved  beverage  a 
right  to  rank  with  that  old  classic  drink  wherewith  the 
fairest  of  women  vanquished  human  ills.  The  majority, 
however,  had  been  snatched  out  of  this  bliss  by  the  intru- 
»ion  of  their  wives,  who  sat  beside  them  like  Consciences 
in.  petticoats ;  and  it  must  be  said  that  Emilia  was  in  favour 
with  the  married  men,  for  one  reason,  because  she  gave 
these  broad-ribboned  ladies  a  good  excuse  for  allowing  their 
lords  to  stop  where  they  were  so  comfortable,  a  continually- 
extending  five  minutes  longer. 

Yet,  though  the  words  were  foreign  and  the  style  of  the 
long  and  the  singer  were  strange,  many  of  the  older  fellows' 


THE  MAGNANIMITY  IN  BEEE  77 

eyes  twinkled,  and  their  mouths  pursed  with  a  kind  of 
half -protesting  pleasure.  All  were  reverent  to  the  compli- 
ment paid  them  by  Emilia's  presence.  The  general  expres- 
sion was  much  like  that  seen  when  the  popular  ear  is  given 
to  the  national  anthem.  Wilfrid  hung  at  the  opening  of 
the  booth,  a  cynical  spectator.  For  what  on  earth  made 
her  throw  such  energy,  and  glory  of  music,  into  a  song 
before  fellows  like  these?  He  laughed  dolorously.  "She 
hasn't  a  particle  of  any  sense  of  ridicule,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. Forthwith  her  voice  took  hold  of  him,  and  led  him 
as  heroes  of  old  were  led  unwillingly  into  enchanted  woods. 
If  she  had  been  singing  things  holy,  a  hymn,  a  hallelujah, 
in  this  company,  it  struck  him  that  somehow  it  would  have 
seemed  appropriate;  not  objectionable;  at  any  rate,  not 
ridiculous.  Dr.  Watts  would  have  put  a  girdle  about  her; 
but  a  song  of  romance  sung  in  this  atmosphere  of  pipes  and 
beer  and  boozy  heads,  chagrined  Wilfrid  in  proportion  as 
the  softer  half  of  him  began  to  succumb  to  the  deliciousness 
of  her  voice. 

Emilia  may  have  had  some  warning  sense  that  admiration 
is  only  one  ingredient  of  homage,  that  to  make  it  fast  and 
true  affection  must  be  won.  Now,  poor  people,  yokels, 
clods,  cannot  love  what  is  incomprehensible  to  them.  An 
idol  must  have  their  attributes :  a  king  must  show  his  face 
now  and  then :  a  song  must  appeal  to  their  intelligence,  to 
subdue  them  quite.  This,  as  we  know,  is  not  the  case  in 
the  higher  circles.  Emilia  may  have  divined  it:  possibly 
from  the  very  great  respect  with  which  her  finale  was 
greeted.  Vigorous  as  the  "  Brayvos  "  were,  they  sounded 
abashed :  they  lacked  abandonment.  In  fact,  it  was  grati- 
tude that  applauded,  and  not  enthusiasm.  "  Hillf ord  don't 
hear  stuff  like  that,  do  'em?"  which  was  the  main  verbal 
encomium  passed,  may  be  taken  testificatorily  as  to  this 
point. 

"  Dame !  dame ! "  cried  Emilia,  finding  her  way  quickly 
to  one  of  the  more  decently -bonneted  women;  "am  I  nob 
glad  to  see  you  here!  Did  I  please  you?  And  you,  dear 
Farmer  Wilson?  I  caught  sight  of  you  just  as  I  was  finish- 
ing. I  remember  the  song  you  like,  and  I  want  to  sing  it. 
I  know  the  tune,  but  the  words !  the  words !  what  are  the 
words?  Humming  won't  do." 


78  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

"  Ah,  now ! "  quoth  Farmer  Wilson,  pointing  out  the  end 
of  his  pipe,  "that's  what  they'll  swallow  down;  that's  the 
song  to  make  'em  kick.  Sing  that,  miss.  Furrin  songs  's 
all  right  enough;  but  'Ale  it  is  my  tipple,  and  England  is 
my  nation ! '  Let's  have  something  plain  and  flat  on  the 
surface,  miss." 

Dame  Wilson  jogged  ht>r  husband's  arm,  to  make  him 
remember  that  talking  was  his  dangerous  pastime,  and 
sent  abroad  a  petition  for  a  song-book;  and  after  a  space 
a  very  doggy-eared  book,  resembling  a  poodle  of  that  genus, 
was  handed  to  her.  Then  uprose  a  shout  for  this  song  and 
that;  but  Emilia  fixed  upon  the  one  she  had  in  view,  and 
walked  back  to  her  harp,  with  her  head  bent,  perusing  it 
attentively  all  the  way.  There,  she  gave  the  book  to  Cap- 
tain Gam  bier,  and  begged  him  to  hold  it  open  before  her, 
with  a  passing  light  of  eyes  likely  to  be  rather  disturbing 
to  a  jealous  spectator.  The  captain  seized  the  book  with- 
out wincing,  and  displayed  a  remarkable  equanimity  of 
countenance  as  he  held  it  out,  according  to  direction.  No 
sooner  had  Emilia  struck  a  prelude  of  the  well-known  air, 
than  the  interior  of  the  booth  was  transfigured;  legs  began 
to  move,  elbows  jerked  upward,  fingers  fillipped :  the  whole 
body  of  them  were  ready  to  duck  and  bow,  dance,  and  do 
her  bidding:  she  had  fairly  caught  their  hearts.  For, 
besides  the  pleasure  they  had  in  their  own  familiar  tune,  it 
was  wonderful  to  them  that  Emilia  should  know  what  they 
knew.  This  was  the  marvel,  this  the  inspiration.  She 
smiled  to  see  how  true  she  had  struck,  and  seemed  to  swim 
on  the  pleasure  she  excited.  Once,  as  her  voice  dropped, 
she  looked  up  at  Captain  Gambier,  so  very  archly,  with  the 
curving  line  of  her  bare  throat,  that  Wilfrid  was  dragged 
down  from  his  cynical  observatory,  and  made  to  feel  as  a 
common  man  among  them  all. 

At  the  "  thrum-thrum  "  on  the  harp-strings,  which  wound 
up  the  song,  frenzied  shouts  were  raised  for  a  repetition. 
Emilia  was  perfectly  willing  to  gratify  them;  Captain 
Gambier  appeared  to  be  remonstrating  with  her,  but  she  put 
up  her  joined  hands,  mock-petitioningly,  and  he  with  great 
affability  held  out  the  book  anew.  Wilfrid  was  thinking 
of  moving  to  her  to  take  her  forcibly  away  when  she  re- 
commenced. 


THE  MAGNANIMITY   IN   BEER  79 

At  the  same  instant  —  but  who,  knowing  that  a  house  of 
glass  is  about  to  be  shattered,  can  refrain  from  admiring  its 
glitter  in  the  beams?  —  Ipley  crooned  a  ready  accompani- 
ment :  the  sleepers  had  been  awakened :  the  women  and  the 
men  were  alive,  half -dancing,  half-chorussing :  here  a  baby 
was  tossed,  and  there  an  old  fellow's  elbow  worked  mutely, 
expressive  of  the  rollicking  gaiety  within  him :  the  whole 
length  of  the  booth  was  in  a  pleasing  simmer,  ready  to 
overboil  with  shouts  humane  and  cheerful,  while  Emilia 
pitched  her  note  and  led ;  archly,  and  quite  one  with  them 
all,  and  yet  in  a  way  that  critical  Wilfrid  could  not  object 
to,  so  plainly  did  she  sing  to  give  happiness. 

I  cannot  delay ;  but  I  request  you,  that  are  here  privileged 
to  soar  aloft  with  the  Muse,  to  fix  your  minds  upon  one 
point  in  this  flight.  Let  not  the  heat  and  dust  of  the 
ensuing  fray  divert  your  attention  from  the  magnanimity 
of  Beer.  It  will  be  vindicated  in  the  end :  but  be  worthy  of 
your  seat  beside  the  Muse,  who  alone  of  us  all  can  take  one 
view  of  the  inevitable  two  that  perplex  mortal  judgements. 

For,  if  Ipley  had  jumped  jovially  up,  and  met  the  Hill- 
ford  alarum  with  laughter,  —  how  then?  Why,  then  I 
maintain  that  the  magnanimity  of  Beer  would  have  blazed 
effulgent  on  the  spot :  there  would  have  been  louder  laugh- 
ter and  fraternal  greetings.  As  it  was,  the  fire  on  the  altar 
of  Wisdom  was  again  kindled  by  Folly,  and  the  steps  to 
the  altar  were  broken  heads,  after  the  antique  fashion. 

In  dismay,  Ipley  started.  The  members  of  the  Club 
stared.  Emilia  faltered  in  horror. 

A  moment  her  voice  swam  stemming  the  execrable  con- 
cert, but  it  was  overwhelmed.  Wilfrid  pressed  forward 
to  her.  They  could  hear  nothing  but  the  din.  The  booth 
raged  like  an  insurgent  menagerie.  Outside  it  sounded  of 
brazen  beasts,  and  beasts  that  whistled,  beasts  that  boomed. 
A  whirlwind  huddled  them,  and  at  last  a  cry,  "  We've  got 
a  visit  from  Hillford,"  told  a  tale.  At  once  the  stoutest 
hearts  pressed  to  the  opening.  "  My  harp !  "  Emilia  made 
her  voice  reach  Wilfrid's  ear.  Unprovided  with  weapons, 
Ipley  parleyed.  Hillford  howled  in  reply.  The  trombone 
brayed  an  interminable  note,  that  would  have  driven  to 
madness  quiescent  cats  by  steaming  kettles,  and  quick,  like 
the  springing  pulse  of  battle,  the  drum  thumped  and 


90  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

thumped.  Blood  could  not  hear  it  and  keep  from  boiling. 
The  booth  shook  violently.  Wilfrid  and  Gambler  threw 
orer  half-a-dozen  chairs,  forms,  and  tables,  to  make  a  bar- 
rier for  the  protection  of  the  women. 

"Come,"  Wilfrid  said  to  Emilia,  "leave  the  harp,  I  will 
get  you  another.  Come." 

"No,  no,"  she  cried  in  her  nervous  fright. 

"For  God's  sake,  come!"  he  reiterated,  she,  stamping 
her  foot,  as  to  emphasize  "No!  no!  no! " 

"But  I  will  buy  you  another  harp; "  he  made  audible  to 
her  through  the  hubbub. 

"This  one!"  she  gasped  with  her  hand  on  it.  "What 
will  he  think  if  he  finds  that  I  forsook  it?  " 

Wilfrid  knew  her  to  allude  to  the  unknown  person  who 
had  given  it  to  her. 

" There  —  there,"  said  he.  " I  sent  it,  and  I  can  get  you 
another.  So,  come.  Be  good,  and  come." 

"It  was  you!" 

Emilia  looked  at  him.  She  seemed  to  have  no  senses  for 
the  uproar  about  her. 

But  now  the  outer  barricade  was  broken  through,  and  the 
rout  pressed  on  the  second  line.  Tom  Breeks,  the  orator, 
and  Jim,  transformed  from  a  lurching  yokel  to  a  lithe  dog 
of  battle,  kept  the  retreat  of  Ipley,  challenging  any  two  of 
Hillford  to  settle  the  dispute.  Captain  Gambier  attempted 
an  authoritative  parley,  in  the  midst  of  whch  a  Hillford 
man  made  a  long  arm  and  struck  Emilia's  harp,  till  the 
strings  jarred  loose  and  horrid.  The  noise  would  have 
been  enough  to  irritate  Wilfrid  beyond  endurance.  When 
he  saw  the  fellow  continuing  to  strike  the  harp-frame  while 
Emilia  clutched  it,  in  a  feeble  defence,  against  her  bosom, 
he  caught  a  thick  stick  from  a  neighouring  hand  and  knocked 
that  Hillford  man  so  clean  to  earth  that  Hillford  murmured 
at  the  blow.  Wilfrid  then  joined  the  front  array. 

"Half-a-dozen  hits  like  that  a-piece,  sir,"  nodded  Tom, 
Breeks. 

"There  goes  another! "  Jim  shouted. 

"Not  quite,  my  lad,"  interposed  Ned  Thewk,  though 
Peter  Bartholomew  was  reeling  in  confirmation. 

His  blow  at  Jim  missed,  but  came  sharply  in  the  swine 
on  Wilfrid's  cheek-bone. 


THE  MAGNANIMITY  IN   BEBB  81 

Maddened  at  the  immediate  vision  of  that  feature  swollen, 
purple,  even  as  a  plum  with  an  assiduous  fly  on  it,  certify- 
ing to  ripeness :  —  Says  the  philosopher,  "  We  are  never  up 
to  the  mark  of  any  position,  if  we  are  in  a  position  beneath 
our  own  mark ; "  and  it  is  true  that  no  hero  in  conflict  should 
think  of  his  face,  but  Wilfrid  was  all  the  while  protesting 
wrathfully  against  the  folly  of  his  having  set  foot  in  such 
a  place:  —  Maddened,  I  say,  Wilfrid,  a  keen  swordman, 
cleared  a  space.  John  Girling  fell  to  him :  Ned  Thewk  fell 
to  him,  and  the  sconce  of  Will  Burdock  rang. 

"A  rascally  absurd  business!  "  said  Gambier,  letting  his 
stick  do  the  part  of  a  damnatory  verb  on  one  of  the  enemy, 
while  he  added,  "  The  drunken  vagabonds !  " 

All  the  Hillford  party  were  now  in  the  booth.  Ipley, 
meantime,  was  not  sleeping.  Farmer  Wilson  and  a  set  of 
the  Ipley  men  whom  age  had  sagaciously  instructed  to  pre- 
fer stratagem  to  force,  had  slipped  outside,  and  were  labour- 
ing as  busily  as  their  comrades  within :  stooping  to  the 
tent-pegs,  sending  emissaries  to  the  tent-poles. 

"Drunk!"  roared  Will  Burdock.  "Did  you  happen  io 
say  'drunk '?"  And  looking  all  the  while  at  Gambier,  he, 
with  infernal  cunning,  swung  at  Wilfrid's  fated  cheek- 
bone. The  latter  rushed  furiously  into  the  press  of  them, 
and  there  was  a  charge  from  Ipley,  and  a  lock,  from  which 
Wilfrid  extricated  himself  to  hurry  off  Emilia.  He  per- 
ceived that  bad  blood  was  boiling  up. 

"Forward!"  cried  Will  Burdock,  and  Hillford  in  turn 
made  a  tide. 

As  they  came  on  in  numbers  too  great  for  Ipley  to  stand 
against,  an  obscuration  fell  over  all.  The  fight  paused. 
Then  a  sensation  as  of  some  fellows  smoothing  their  polls 
and  their  cheeks,  and  leaning  on  their  shoulders  with  ob- 
trusive affection,  inspirited  them  to  lash  about  indiscrimi- 
nately. Whoops  and  yells  arose;  then  peals  of  laughter. 
Homage  to  the  cleverness  of  Ipley  was  paid  in  hurrahs,  the 
moment  Hillford  understood  the  stratagem  by  which  its 
men  of  valour  were  lamed  and  imprisoned.  The  truth  was, 
that  the  booth  was  down  on  them,  and  they  were  struggling 
entangled  in  an  enormous  bag  of  canvas. 

Wilfrid  drew  Emilia  from  under  the  drooping  folds  of 
the  tent.  He  was  allowed,  on  inspection  of  features,  to 


82  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

pass.  The  men  of  Hillford  were  captured  one  by  one  like 
wild  geese,  as  with  difficulty  they  emerged,  roaring,  rolling 
with  laughter,  all. 

Yea;  to  such  an  extent  did  they  laugh  that  they  can 
scarce  be  said  to  have  done  less  than  make  the  joke  of  the 
foe  their  own.  And  this  proves  the  great  and  amazing 
magnanimity  of  Beer. 


CHAPTER  XII 


A  PILLAR  of  dim  silver  rain  fronted  the  moon  on  the 
hills.  Emilia  walked  hurriedly,  with  her  head  bent,  like 
a  penitent:  now  and  then  peeping  up  and  breathing  to  the 
keen  scent  of  the  tender  ferns.  Wilfrid  still  grasped  her 
hand,  and  led  her  across  the  common,  away  from  the  rout. 

When  the  uproar  behind  them  had  sunk,  he  said :  "  You'll 
get  your  feet  wet.  I'm  sorry  you  should  have  to  walk. 
How  did  you  come  here?" 

She  answered:  "I  forget." 

"You  must  have  come  here  in  some  conveyance.  Did 
you  walk?  " 

Again  she  answered:  "I  forget;"  a  little  querulously; 
perhaps  wilfully. 

"Well!"  he  persisted:  "You  must  have  got  your  harp 
to  this  place  by  some  means  or  other?  " 

"  Yes,  my  harp !  "  a  sob  checked  her  voice. 

Wilfrid  tried  to  soothe  her.  "Never  mind  the  harp. 
It's  easily  replaced." 

"Not  that  one!  "  she  moaned. 

"We  will  get  you  another." 
I  shall  never  love  any  but  that." 
'Perhaps  we  may  hear  good  news  of  it  to-morrow." 

"No;  for  I  felt  it  die  in  my  hands.  The  third  blow  was 
the  one  that  killed  it.  It's  broken." 

Wilfrid  could  not  reproach  her,  and  he  had  not  any  desire 
*>  preach.  So,  as  no  idea  of  having  done  amiss  in  coming 


SENTIMENT,   PASSION,    AND   LOVE  83 

to  the  booth  to  sing  illumined  her,  and  she  yet  knew  that 
she  was  in  some  way  guilty,  she  accused  herself  of  disre- 
gard for  that  dear  harp  while  it  was  brilliant  and  service- 
able. "Now  I  remember  what  poor  music  I  made  of  it! 
I  touched  it  with  cold  fingers.  The  sound  was  thin,  as  if 
it  had  no  heart.  Tick-tick !  —  I  fancy  I  touched  it  with  a 
dead  man's  finger-nails." 

She  crossed  her  wrists  tight  at  the  clasp  of  her  waist, 
and  letting  her  chin  fall  on  her  throat,  shook  her  body 
fretfully,  much  as  a  pettish  little  girl  might  do.  Wilfrid 
grimaced.  "Tick-tick"  was  not  a  pathetic  elegy  in  his 
ears. 

"The  only  thing  is,  not  to  think  about  it,"  said  he. 
"It's  only  an  instrument,  after  all." 

"  It's  the  second  one  I've  seen  killed  like  a  living  creat- 
ure," replied  Emilia. 

They  walked  on  silently,  till  Wilfrid  remarked,  that  he 
wondered  where  Gambier  was.  She  gave  no  heed  to  the 
name.  The  little  quiet  footing  and  the  bowed  head  by  his 
side,  moved  him  to  entreat  her  not  to  be  unhappy.  Her 
voice  had  another  tone  when  she  answered  that  she  was 
not  unhappy. 

"No  tears  at  all?"  Wilfrid  stooped  to  get  a  close  view 
of  her  face.  "  I  thought  I  saw  one.  If  it's  about  the  harp, 
look !  —  you  shall  go  into  that  cottage  where  the  light  is,  sit 
there,  and  wait  for  me,  and  I  will  bring  you  what  remains 
of  it.  I  dare  say  we  can  have  it  mended." 

Emilia  lifted  her  eyes.  "  I  am  not  crying  for  the  harp. 
If  you  go  back  I  must  go  with  you." 

"  That's  out  of  the  question.  You  must  never  be  found 
in  that  sort  of  place  again." 

"Let  us  leave  the  harp,"  she  murmured.  "You  cannot 
go  without  me.  Let  me  sit  here  for  a  minute.  Sit  with 
me." 

She  pointed  to  a  place  beside  herself  on  the  fork  of  a  dry 
log  under  flowering  hawthorn.  A  pale  shadowy  blue  centre 
of  light  among  the  clouds  told  where  the  moon  was.  Rain 
had  ceased,  and  the  refreshed  earth  smelt  all  of  flowers,  as 
if  each  breeze  going  by  held  a  nosegay  to  their  nostrils. 

Wilfrid  was  sensible  of  a  sudden  marked  change  in  her. 
His  blood  was  quicker  than  his  brain  in  feeling  it.  Her 


g4  EMTTVTA  IN  ENGLAND 

voice  now,  even  in  common  speaking,  had  that  vibrating 
richness  which  in  her  singing  swept  his  nerves. 

"If  you  cry,  there  must  be  a  cause,  you  know,"  he  said, 
for  the  sake  of  keeping  the  conversation  in  a  safe  channel. 

"  How  brave  you  are ! "  was  Emilia's  sedate  exclamation, 
in  reply. 

Her  cheeks  glowed,  as  if  she  had  just  uttered  a  great 
confession,  but  while  the  colour  mounted  to  her  eyes,  they 
kept  their  affectionate  intentness  upon  him  without  a  quiver 
of  the  lids. 

"Do  you  think  me  a  coward?"  she  relieved  him  by 
asking  sharply,  like  one  whom  the  thought  had  turned  into 
a  darker  path.  "  I  am  not.  I  hung  my  head  while  you 
were  fighting,  because,  what  could  I  do?  I  would  not  have 
left  you.  Girls  can  only  say,  'I  will  perish  with  him.'" 

"But,"  Wilfrid  tried  to  laugh,  "there  was  no  necessity 
for  that  sort  of  devotion.  What  are  you  thinking  of?  It 
was  half  in  good  humour,  all  through.  Part  of  their  fun !  " 

Clearly  Emilia's  conception  of  the  recent  fray  was 
unchangeable. 

"And  the  place  for  girls  is  at  home;  that's  certain,"  he 
added. 

"I  should  always  like  to  be  where.  .  .  ."  Her  voice 
flowed  on  with  singular  gravity  to  that  stop. 

Wilfrid's  hand  travelled  mechanically  to  his  prickling 
sheek-bone. 

Was  it  possible  that  a  love  scene  was  coming  on  as  a 
pendant  to  that  monstrously  ridiculous  affair  of  half-an- 
hour  back?  To  know  that  she  had  sufficient  sensibility  was 
gratifying,  and  flattering  that  it  aimed  at  him.  She  was 
really  a  darling  little  woman:  only  too  absurd!  Had  she 
been  on  the  point  of  saying  that  she  would  always  like  to 
be  where  he,  Wilfrid,  was?  An  odd  touch  of  curiosity, 
peculiar  to  the  languid  emotions,  made  him  ask  her  this: 
and  to  her  soft  "Yes,"  he  continued  briskly,  and  in  the 
style  of  condescending  fellowship:  "Of  course  we're  not 
going  to  part!" 

I  wonder,"  said  Emilia. 

There  she  sat,  evidently  sounding  right  through  the  future 
with  her  young  brain,  to  hear  what  Destiny  might  have 


SENTIMENT,    PASSION,   AND  LOVE  85 

The  'I  wonder '  rang  sweetly  in  his  head.  It  was  as  deli- 
cate a  way  of  confessing,  "I  love  you  with  all  my  soul,"  as 
could  be  imagined.  Extremely  refined  young  ladies  could 
hardly  have  improved  upon  it,  saving  with  the  angelio 
shades  of  sentiment  familiar  to  them. 

Convinced  that  he  had  now  heard  enough  for  his  vanity, 
Wilfrid  returned  emphatically  to  the  tone  of  the  world's 
highroad. 

"By  the  way,"  he  said,  "you  mustn't  have  any  exagger- 
ated idea  of  this  night's  work.  Remember,  also,  I  have  to 
share  the  honours  with  Captain  Gambier." 

"I  did  not  see  him,"  said  Emilia. 

"  Are  you  not  cold?  "  he  asked,  for  a  diversion,  though  he 
had  one  of  her  hands. 

She  gave  him  the  other. 

He  could  not  quit  them  abruptly :  nor  could  he  hold  both 
without  being  drawn  to  her. 

"What  is  it  you  say?"  Wilfrid  whispered :  "'Men  kiss 
us  when  we  are  happy. '  Is  that  right?  and  are  you  happy  ?  " 

She  lifted  a  clear  full  face,  to  which  he  bent  his  mouth. 
Over  the  flowering  hawthorn  the  moon  stood  like  a  wind- 
blown white  rose  of  the  heavens.  The  kiss  was  given  and 
taken.  Strange  to  tell,  it  was  he  who  drew  away  from  it 
almost  bashfully,  and  with  new  feelings. 

Quite  unaware  that  he  played  the  feminine  part,  Wilfrid 
alluded  to  her  flight  from  Richford,  with  the  instinct  to 
sting  his  heart  by  a  revival  of  his  jealous  sensations  previ- 
ously experienced,  and  so  taste  the  luxury  of  present  satis- 
faction. 

"Why  did  you  run  away  from  me?"  he  said,  semi- 
reproachfully. 

"I  promised." 

"  Would  you  not  break  a  promise  to  stay  with  me?  " 

"Now  I  would!" 

"You  promised  Captain  Gambier?" 

"No:  those  poor  people." 

"  You  are  sorry  that  you  went?  " 

No :  she  was  happy. 

"  You  have  lost  your  harp  by  it, "  said  Wilfrid. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  me  for  not  guessing  —  not  know- 
ing who  sent  it?  "  she  returned.  "  I  feel  guilty  of  something 


86  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

all  those  days  that  I  touched  it,  not  thinking  of  you. 
Wicked,  filthy  little  creature  that  I  was!  I  despise  un- 

Sr*  I  detest  anything  that  has  to  do  with  gratitude,"  Wil- 
frid appended,  "  pray  give  me  none.  Why  did  you  go  away 
with  Captain  Gambier?" 

"  I  was  very  fond  of  him,"  she  replied  unhesitatingly,  but 
speaking  as  it  were  with  numbed  lips.  "  I  wanted  to  tell 
him,  to  thank  him  and  hold  his  hand.  I  told  him  of  my 
promise.  He  spoke  to  me  a  moment  in  the  garden,  you 
know.  He  said  he  was  leaving  to  go  to  London  early,  and 
would  wait  for  me  in  the  carriage:  then  we  might  talk. 
He  did  not  wish  to  talk  to  me  in  the  garden." 

"  And  you  went  with  him  in  the  carriage,  and  told  him 
you  were  so  grateful?  " 

"  Yes;  but  men  do  not  like  us  to  be  grateful." 

"  So,  he  said  he  would  do  all  sorts  of  things  on  condition 
that  you  were  not  grateful?" 

"  He  said  —  yes :  —  I  forget :  I  do  forget !  How  can  I  tell 
what  he  said? "  Emilia  added  piteously.  "  I  feel  as  if  I 
had  been  emptied  out  of  a  sack ! " 

Wilfrid  was  pierced  with  laughter;  and  then  the  plain- 
spoken  simile  gave  him  a  chilling  sensation  while  he  was 
rising  to  the  jealous  pitch. 

"  Did  he  talk  about  taking  you  to  Italy?  Put  your  head 
into  the  sack,  and  think ! " 

"Yes,"  she  answered  blandly,  an  affirmative  that  caused 
him  some  astonishment,  for  he  had  struck  at  once  to  the 
farthest  end  of  his  suspicions. 

"  He  feels  as  I  do  about  the  Italian  Schools,"  said  Emilia. 
"He  wishes  me  to  owe  my  learning  to  him.  He  says  it 
will  make  him  happy,  and  I  thought  so  too."  She  threw 
in  a  "then." 

Wilfrid  looked  moodily  into  the  opposite  hedge. 

"  Did  he  name  the  day  for  your  going? "  he  asked  pres- 
ently, little  anticipating  another  "  Yes:  "  but  it  came:  and 
her  rather  faltering  manner  showed  her  to  be  conscious  too 
that  the  word  was  getting  to  be  a  black  one  to  him. 

"  Did  you  say  you  would  go?  " 

"I  did." 

Question  and  answer  crossed  like  two  rapiers. 


SENTIMENT,   PASSION,   AND   LOVE  87 

Wilfrid  jumped  up. 

"The  smell  of  this  tree's  detestable,"  he  said,  glancing 
at  the  shadowing  hawthorn. 

Emilia  rose  quietly,  plucked  a  flower  off  the  tree,  and  put 
it  in  her  bosom. 

Their  way  was  down  a  green  lane  and  across  long  meadow- 
paths  dim  in  the  moonlight.  A  nightingale  was  heard  on 
this  side  and  on  that.  Overhead  they  had  a  great  space  of 
sky  with  broken  cloud  full  of  the  glory  of  the  moon.  The 
meadows  dipped  to  a  brook,  slenderly  spanned  by  a  plank. 
Then  there  was  an  ascent  through  a  cornfield  to  a  copse. 
Bounding  this  they  had  sight  of  Brookfield.  But  while 
they  were  yet  at  the  brook,  Wilfrid  said,  "  When  is  it  you're 
going  to  Italy?" 

In  return  he  had  an  eager  look,  so  that  he  was  half  ashamed 
to  add,  "With  Captain  Gambier,  I  mean."  He  was  suffer- 
ing, and  by  being  brutal  he  expected  to  draw  balm  on  him- 
self; nor  was  he  deceived. 

Emilia  just  then  gave  him  her  hand  to  be  led  over,  and 
answered,  as  she  neared  him,  "I  am  never  to  leave  you." 

"  You  never  shall ! "  Wilfrid  caught  her  in  his  arms, 
quite  conquered  by  her,  proud  of  her.  He  reflected  with  a 
loving  rapture  that  her  manner  at  that  moment  was  equal 
to  any  lady's ;  and  the  phantom  of  her  with  her  hand  out, 
and  her  frank  look,  and  trustful  footing,  while  she  spoke 
those  words,  kept  on  advancing  to  him  all  the  way  to  Brook- 
field,  at  the  same  time  that  the  sober  reality  murmured  at 
his  elbow. 

Love,  with  his  accustomed  cunning,  managed  thus  to  lift 
her  out  of  the  mire  and  array  her  in  his  golden  dress :  to 
idealize  her,  as  we  say.  Reconciled  for  the  hour  were  the/ 
contesting  instincts  in  the  nature  of  this  youth :  the  adora- 
tion  of  feminine  refinement  and  the  susceptibility  to  sensu- 
ous impressions.  But  Emilia  walked  with  a  hero :  the  dream 
of  all  her  days !  one,  generous  and  gentle,  as  well  as  brave : 
who  had  fought  for  her,  had  thought  of  her  tenderly,  was 
with  her  now,  having  raised  her  to  his  level  with  a  touch ! 
How  much  might  they  not  accomplish  together:  he  with 
sword,  she  with  harp?  Through  shadowy  alleys  in  the 
clouds,  Emilia  saw  the  bright  Italian  plains  opening  out  to 
her :  the  cities  of  marble,  such  as  her  imagination  had  fash- 


gg  EMILIA  IS  ENGLAND 

ioned  them,  porticos  of  stately  palaces,  and  towers,  and 
statues  white  among  cypresses ;  and  farther,  minutely-radi- 
ant in  the  vista  as  a  shining  star,  Venice  of  the  sea.  Fancy- 
made  the  flying  minutes  hours.  Now  they  marched  with 
the  regiments  of  Italy,  under  the  folds  of  her  free  banner; 
now  she  sang  to  the  victorious  army,  waving  the  banner 
over  them;  and  now  she  floated  in  a  gondola,  and  turning 
to  him,  the  dear  home  of  her  heart,  yet  pale  with  the  bleed- 
ing of  his  wound  for  Italy,  said  softly,  in  the  tone  that  had 
power  with  him,  "Only  let  me  please  you! " 

"  When?  Where?  What  with?  "  came  the  blunt  response 
from  England,  with  electric  speed,  and  Emilia  fell  from  the 
clouds. 

"I  meant  my  singing;  I  thought  of  how  I  sang  to  you. 
Oh,  happy  time!"  she  exclaimed,  to  cut  through  the  mist 
of  vision  in  her  mind. 

"To  me?  down  at  the  booth?"  muttered  Wilfrid,  per- 
plexed. 

"Oh,  no!    I  mean,  just  now "  and  languid  with  the 

burden  of  so  full  a  heart,  she  did  not  attempt  to  explain 
herself  further,  though  he  said,  invitingly,  "I  thought  I 
heard  you  humming?" 

Then  he  was  seized  with  a  desire  to  have  the  force  of  her 
spirit  upon  him,  for  Brookfield  was  in  view ;  and  with  the 
sight  of  Brookfield,  the  natural  fascination  waxed  a  shade 
fainter,  and  he  feared  it  might  be  going.  This  (he  was 
happily  as  ignorant  as  any  other  youth  of  the  working  of 
his  machinery)  prompted  him  to  bid  her  sing  before  they 
parted.  Emilia  checked  her  steps  at  once  to  do  as  he  desired. 
Her  throat  filled,  but  the  voice  quavered  down  again,  like  a 
fainting  creature  sick  unto  death.  She  made  another  effort 
and  ended  with  a  sorrowful  look  at  his  narrowly-watching 
eyes. 

"I  can't,"  she  said;  and,  in  fear  of  his  anger,  took  his 
hand  to  beg  forgiveness,  while  her  eyelids  drooped. 

Wilfrid  locked  her  fingers  in  a  strong  pressure,  and  walked 
on,  silent  as  a  man  who  has  faced  one  of  the  veiled  mys- 
teries of  life.  It  struck  a  full  human  blow  on  his  heart, 
dragging  him  out  of  his  sentimental  pastures  precipitately. 
He  felt  her  fainting  voice  to  be  the  intensest  love-cry  that 
could  be  uttered.  The  sound  of  it  coursed  through  his  blood. 


A   SHORT   DISCOURSE   ON  PUPPETS  89 

striking  a  rare  illumination  of  sparks  in  his  not  commonly 
brilliant  brain.  In  truth,  that  little  episode  showed  an 
image  of  nature  weak  with  the  burden  of  new  love.  I  do  not 
charge  the  young  cavalry  officer  with  the  power  of  perceiv- 
ing images.  He  saw  no  more  than  that  she  could  not  sing 
because  of  what  was  in  her  heart  toward  him;  but  such  a 
physical  revelation  was  a  divine  love-confession,  coining 
involuntarily  from  one  whose  lips  had  not  formed  the  name 
of  love ;  and  Wilfrid  felt  it  so  deeply,  that  the  exquisite 
flattery  was  almost  lost,  in  a  certain  awed  sense  of  his  being 
in  the  presence  of  an  absolute  fact :  a  thing  real,  though  it 
was  much  talked  about,  and  visible,  though  it  did  not  wear 
a  hat  or  a  petticoat. 

It  searched  him  thoroughly  enough  to  keep  him  from  any 
further  pledges  in  that  direction,  propitious  as  the  moment 
was,  while  the  moon  slipped  over  banks  of  marble  into  fields 
of  blue,  and  all  the  midnight  promised  silence.  They  passed 
quickly  through  the  laurel  shrubs,  and  round  the  lawn. 
Lights  were  in  the  sleepless  ladies'  bed-room  windows. 

"Do  I  love  her?"  thought  Wilfrid,  as  he  was  about  to 
pull  at  the  bell,  and  the  thought  that  he  should  feel  pain  at 
being  separated  from  her  for  half-a-dozen  hours,  persuaded 
him  that  he  did.  The  self-restraint  which  withheld  him 
from  protesting  that  he  did,  confirmed  it. 

"To-morrow  morning,"  he  whispered. 

"I  shall  be  down  by  daylight,"  answered  Emilia. 

"You  are  in  the  shade  —  I  cannot  see  you,"  said  he. 

The  door  opened  as  Emilia  was  moving  out  of  the  line  of 
shadow. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CONTAINS    A   SHORT    DItCOURSE    OW    PUPPETS 

ON  the  morrow  Wilfrid  was  gone.  No  one  had  seen  him 
go.  Emilia,  while  she  touched  the  keys  of  a  muted  piano 
softly  in  the  morning  quiet  of  the  house,  had  heard  the 
front-door  close.  At  that  hour  one  attributes  every  noise 
to  the  servants.  She  played  on  and  waited  patiently,  till 
the  housemaid  expelled  her  into  the  dewy  air. 


90  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

The  report  from  his  bedchamber,  telling  the  ladies  of  his 
absence,  added  that  he  had  taken  linen  for  a  lengthened 

\ottrney. 

'  This  curious  retreat  of  my  hero  belongs  to  the  order  of 
things  that  are  done  <  None  know  why ; '  a  curtain  which 
drops  conveniently  upon  either  the  bewilderment  of  the 
showman  or  the  infirmities  of  the  puppet. 

I  must  own  (though  I  need  not  be  told  what  odium  frowns 
on  such  a  pretension  to  excess  of  cleverness)  that  I  do  know 
why.  I  know  why,  and,  unfortunately  for  me,  I  have  to 
tell  what  I  know.  If  I  do  not  tell,  this  narrative  is  so  con- 
stituted that  there  will  be  no  moral  to  it. 

One  who  studies  man  in  puppets  (in  which  purpose  lies 
the  chief  value  of  this  amusing  species),  must  think  that  we 
are  degenerating  rapidly.  The  puppet  hero,  for  instance,  is 
a  changed  being.  We  know  what  he  was ;  but  now  he  takes 
shelter  in  his  wits.  His  organs  affect  his  destiny.  Careless 
of  the  fact  that  the  hero's  achievement  is  to  conquer  nature, 
he  seems  rather  to  boast  of  his  subservience  to  her. 

Still,  up  to  this  day,  the  fixture  of  a  nose  upon  the  puppet- 
hero's  frontispiece  has  not  been  attempted.  Some  one  does 
it  at  last.  When  the  alternative  came:  "No  nose  to  the 
hero,  no  moral  to  the  tale ; "  could  there  be  hesitation  ? 

And  I  would  warn  our  sentimentalists  to  admit  the  nose 
among  the  features  proper  to  heroes,  otherwise  the  race  will 
become  extinct.  There  is  already  an  amount  of  dropping  of 
the  curtain  that  is  positively  wearisome,  even  to  extremely 
refined  persons,  in  order  to  save  him  from  apparent  miscon- 
duct He  will  have  to  go  altogether,  unless  we  boldly  figure 
him  as  other  men.  Manifestly  the  moment  his  career  as  a 
fairy  prince  was  at  end,  he  was  on  the  highroad  to  a  nose. 
The  beneficent  Power  that  discriminated  for  him  having 
vanished  utterly,  he  was,  like  a  bankrupt  gentleman,  obliged 
to  do  all  the  work  for  himself.  This  is  nothing  more  than 
the  tendency  of  the  generations  downward  from  the  ideal. 

The  springs  that  moved  Wilfrid  upon  the  present  occa- 
sion were  simple.  We  will  strip  him  of  his  heroic  trappings 
for  one  fleeting  instant,  and  show  them. 

Jumping  briskly  from  a  restless  bed,  his  first  act  was  to 
address  his  features  to  the  looking-glass :  and  he  saw  surely 
the  most  glorious  sight  for  a  hero  of  the  knightly  age  that 


A  SHORT   DISCOURSE   ON  PUPPETS  91 

could  possibly  have  been  offered.  The  battle  of  the  previous 
night  was  written  there  in  one  eloquent  big  lump,  which 
would  have  passed  him  current  as  hero  from  end  to  end  of 
the  land  in  the  great  days  of  old.  These  are  the  tea-table 
days.  His  preference  was  for  the  visage  of  Wilfrid  Pole, 
which  he  saw  not.  At  the  aspect  of  the  fearful  mask,  this 
young  man  stared,  and  then  cursed ;  and  then,  by  an  odd 
transition,  he  was  reminded,  as  by  the  force  of  a  sudden 
gust,  that  Emilia's  hair  was  redolent  of  pipe-smoke. 

His  remark  was,  "I  can't  be  seen  in  this  state."  His 
thought  (a  dim  reminiscence  of  poetical  readings) :  "  Am- 
brosial locks  indeed !  "  A  sad  irony,  which  told  that  much 
gold-leaf  had  peeled  away  from  her  image  in  his  heart 

Wilfrid  was  a  gallant  fellow,  with  good  stuff  in  him.  But, 
he  was  young.  Ponder  on  that  pregnant  word,  for  you  are 
about  to  see  him  grow.  He  was  less  a  coxcomb  than  shame- 
faced and  sentimental ;  and  one  may  have  these  qualities, 
and  be  a  coxcomb  to  boot,  and  yet  be  a  gallant  fellow.  One 
may  also  be  a  gallant  fellow,  and  harsh,  exacting,  double- 
dealing,  and  I  know  not  what  besides,  in  youth.  The  ques- 
tion asked  by  nature  is,  "  Has  he  the  heart  to  take  and  keep 
an  impression  ?  "  For,  if  he  has,  circumstances  will  force 
him  on  and  carve  the  figure  of  a  brave  man  out  of  that  mass 
of  contradictions.  In  return  for  such  benefits,  he  pays  for- 
feit commonly  of  the  dearest  of  the  things  prized  by  him  in 
this  terrestrial  life.  Whereat,  albeit  created  man  by  her,  he 
reproaches  nature,  and  the  sculptor,  circumstance;  forget- 
ting that  to  make  him  man  is  their  sole  duty,  and  that  what 
betrayed  him  was  the  difficulty  thrown  in  their  way  by  his 
quondam  self  —  the  pleasant  boonf ellow ! 

He  forgets,  in  fact,  that  he  was  formerly  led  by  his  nose, 
and  sacrificed  his  deeper  feeling  to  a  low  disgust. 

When  the  youth  is  called  upon  to  look  up,  he  can  adore 
devoutly  and  ardently ;  but  when  it  is  his  chance  to  look 
down  on  a  fair  head,  he  is,  if  not  worse,  a  sentimental  despot. 

Wilfrid  was  young,  and  under  the  dominion  of  his  senses ; 
which  can  be,  if  the  sentimentalists  will  believe  me,  as 
tyrannous  and  misleading  when  super-refined  as  when  ultra- 
bestial.  He  made  a  good  stout  effort  to  resist  the  pipe- 
smoke.  Emilia's  voice,  her  growing  beauty,  her  simplicity, 
her  peculiar  charms  of  feature,  were  all  conjured  up  to  com- 


92  BMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

bat  the  dismal  images  suggested  by  that  fatal,  dragging-down 
smell.  It  was  vain.  Horrible  pipe-smoke  pervaded  the 
memory  of  her.  It  seemed  to  his  offended  dainty  fancy 
that  he  could  never  dissociate  her  from  smoking-booths  and 
abominably  bad  tobacco ;  and,  let  us  add  (for  this  was  part 
of  the  secret),  that  it  never  could  dwell  on  her  without  the 
companionship  of  a  hideous  disfigured  countenance,  claiming 
to  be  Wilfrid  Pole.  He  shuddered  to  think  that  he  had 
virtually  almost  engaged  himself  to  this  girl.  Or,  had  he  ? 
Was  his  honour  bound  ?  Distance  appeared  to  answer  the 
question  favourably.  There  was  safety  in  being  distant  from 
her.  She  possessed  an  incomprehensible  attractiveness.  She 
was  at  once  powerful  and  pitiable :  so  that  while  he  feared 
her,  and  was  running  from  her  spell,  he  said,  from  time  to 
time,  "  Poor  little  thing ! "  and  deeply  hoped  she  would  not 
be  unhappy. 

A  showman  once  (a  novice  in  his  art,  or  ambitious  beyond 
the  mark),  after  a  successful  exhibition  of  his  dolls,  handed 
them  to  the  company,  with  the  observation,  "  Satisfy  your- 
selves, ladies  and  gentlemen."  The  latter,  having  satisfied 
themselves  that  the  capacity  of  the  lower  limbs  was  extraor- 
dinary, returned  them,  disenchanted.  That  showman  did 
UL  But  I  am  not  imitating  him.  I  do  not  wait  till  after 
the  performance,  when  it  is  too  late  to  revive  illusion.  To 
avoid  having  to  drop  the  curtain,  I  choose  to  explain  an  act 
on  which  the  story  hinges,  while  it  is  advancing :  which  is, 
in  truth,  an  impulse  of  character.  Instead  of  his  being 
more  of  a  puppet,  this  hero  is  less  wooden  than  he  was. 
Certainly  I  am  much  more  in  awe  of  him. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  BESWORTH   QUESTION 


MB.  POLE  was  one  of  those  men  whose  characters  are  read  off 
at  a  glance     He  was  neat,  insignificant,  and  nervously  cheer- 
ful; with  the  eyes  of  a  bird,  that  let  you  into  no  interior. 
£IB  friends  knew  him  thoroughly.  His  daughters  were  never 


THE  BESWOKTH   QUESTION  93 

in  doubt  about  him.  At  the  period  of  the  purchase  of  Brook- 
field  he  had  been  excitable  and  feverish,  but  that  was  as- 
cribed to  the  projected  change  in  his  habits,  and  the  stern 
necessity  for  an  occasional  family  intercommunication  on  the 
subject  of  money.  He  had  a  remarkable  shyness  of  this  theme, 
and  reversed  its  general  treatment ;  for  he  would  pay,  but 
would  not  talk  of  it.  If  it  had  to  be  discussed  with  the  ladies, 
he  puffed,  and  blinked,  and  looked  so  much  like  a  culprit  that, 
though  they  rather  admired  him  for  what  seemed  to  them 
the  germ  of  a  sense  delicate  above  his  condition,  they  would 
have  said  of  any  man  they  had  not  known  so  perfectly,  that 
he  had  painful  reasons  for  wishing  to  avoid  it.  Now  that 
they  spoke  to  him  of  Besworth,  assuring  him  that  they  were 
serious  in  their  desire  to  change  their  residence,  the  fit  oi 
shyness  was  manifested,  first  in  outrageous  praise  of  Brook- 
field,  which  was  speedily  and  inexplicably  followed  by  a 
sort  of  implied  assent  to  the  proposition  to  depart  from  it. 
For  Besworth  displayed  numerous  advantages  over  Brook- 
field,  and  to  contest  one  was  to  plunge  headlong  into  the 
money  question.  He  ventured  to  ask  his  daughters  what 
good  they  expected  from  the  change.  They  replied  that  it 
was  simply  this :  that  one  might  live  fifty  years  at  Brook- 
field  and  not  get  such  a  circle  as  in  two  might  be  estab- 
lished at  Besworth.  They  were  restricted.  They  had  gather- 
ing friends,  and  no  means  of  bringing  them  together.  And 
the  beauty  of  the  site  of  Besworth  made  them  enthusiastic. 

"Well,  but,"  said  Mr.  Pole:  "what  does  it  lead  to?  Is 
there  nothing  to  come  after  ?  " 

He  explained :  "  You're  girls,  you  know.  You  won't 
always  stop  with  me.  You  may  do  just  as  well  at  Brook- 
field  for  yourselves,  as  over  there." 

The  ladies  blushed  demurely. 

"  You  forecast  very  kindly  for  us,  papa,"  said  Cornelia 
"Our  object  is  entirely  different." 

"  I  wish  I  could  see  it,"  he  returned. 

"  But,  you  do  see,  papa,  you  do  see,"  interposed  Adela, 
"  that  a  select  life  is  preferable  to  that  higgledy-piggledy 
city-square  existence  so  many  poor  creatures  are  condemned 
to!" 

"  Select ! "  said  Mr.  Pole,  thinking  that  he  had  hit  upon 
a  weakness  in  their  argument ;  "  how  can  it  be  select  when 


94  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

you  want  to  go  to  a  place  where  you  may  have  a  crowd 
about  you  ?  " 

"  Selection  can  only  be  made  from  a  crowd,"  remarked 
Arabella,  with  terrible  placidity.  "  It  is  where  we  see  few 
that  we  are  at  the  mercy  of  kind  fortune  for  our  acquaint- 
ances." 

"Don't  you  see,  papa,  that  the  difference  between  the 
aristocracy  and  the  bourgeoisie  is,  that  the  former  choose 
their  sets,  and  the  latter  are  obliged  to  take  what  comes  to 
them  ?  "  said  Adela. 

This  was  the  first  domestic  discussion  upon  Besworth. 
The  visit  to  Richford  had  produced  the  usual  effect  on  the 
ladies,  who  were  now  looking  to  other  heights  from  that 
level.  The  ladies  said:  "We  have  only  to  press  it  with 
papa,  and  we  shall  quit  this  place."  But  at  the  second 
discussion  they  found  that  they  had  not  advanced.  The 
only  change  was  in  the  emphasis  that  their  father  added  to 
the  interrogations  already  uttered.  "  What  does  it  lead  to  ? 
What's  to  come  after  ?  I  see  your  object.  But,  am  I  to  go 
into  a  new  house  for  the  sake  of  getting  you  out  of  it,  and 
then  be  left  there  alone  ?  It's  against  your  interests,  too. 
Never  mind  how.  Leave  that  to  a  business  man.  If  your 
brother  had  proposed  it  ....  but  he's  too  reasonable." 

The  ladies,  upon  this  hint,  wrote  to  Wilfrid  to  obtain  his 
concurrence  and  assistance.  He  laughed  when  he  read  the 
simple  sentence :  "  We  hope  you  will  not  fancy  that  we  have 
any  peculiar  personal  interest  in  view ; "  and  replied  to  them 
that  he  was  sure  they  had  none :  that  he  looked  upon  Bes- 
worth with  favour,  "  and  I  may  inform  you,"  he  pursued, 
'  that  your  taste  is  heartily  applauded  by  Lady  Charlotte 
Chillingworth,  she  bids  me  tell  you."  The  letter  was  dated 
from  Stornley,  the  estate  of  the  marquis,  Lady  Charlotte's 
father.  Her  ladyship's  brother  was  a  member  of  Wilfrid's 
Club.  "  He  calls  Besworth  the  most  habitable  place  in  the 
county,  and  promises  to  be  there  as  many  months  out  of 
the  twelve  as  you  like  to  have  him.  I  agree  with  him  that 
Stornley  can't  hold  a  candle  to  it.  There  are  three  resi- 
dences in  England  that  might  be  preferred  to  it,  and,  of 
those,  two  are  ducal." 

The  letter  was  a  piece  of  that  easy  diplomacy  which  comes 
from  habit  The  "of  those,  two  are  ducal,"  was  masterly. 


THE  BESWORTH  QUESTION  95 

It  affected  the  imagination  of  Brookfield.  "  Which  two  ?  " 
And  could  Besworth  be  brought  to  rival  them  ?  Ultimately, 
it  might  be !  The  neighbourhood  to  London,  too,  gave  it 
noble  advantages.  Rapid  relays  of  guests,  and  a  metropoli- 
tan reputation  for  country  attractions,  would  distinguish 
Besworth  above  most  English  houses.  A  house  where  all 
the  chief  celebrities  might  be  encountered :  a  house  under 
suave  feminine  rule ;  a  house,  a  home,  to  a  chosen  set,  and 
a  refreshing  fountain  to  a  widening  circle ! 

"We  have  a  dispute,"  they  wrote  playfully  to  Wilfrid, 
"  a  dispute  we  wish  you  or  Lady  Charlotte  to  settle.  I, 
Arabella,  know  nothing  of  trout.  I,  Cornelia,  know  noth- 
ing of  river-beds.  I,  Adela,  know  nothing  of  engineering. 
But,  we  are  persuaded,  the  latter,  that  the  river  running 
for  a  mile  through  Besworth  grounds  may  be  deepened :  we 
are  persuaded,  the  intermediate,  that  the  attempt  will  dam- 
age the  channel:  we  are  persuaded,  the  first,  that  all  the 
fish  will  go." 

In  reply,  Wilfrid  appeared  to  have  taken  them  in  earnest. 
"I  rode  over  yesterday  with  Lady  Charlotte,"  he  said. 
"  We  think  something  might  be  done,  without  at  all  endan- 
gering the  fish  or  spoiling  the  channel.  At  all  events,  the 
idea  of  making  the  mile  of  broad  water  serviceable  for 
boats  is  too  good  to  give  up  in  a  hurry.  How  about  the 
dining-hall  ?  I  told  Lady  Charlotte  you  were  sure  to  insist 
upon  a  balcony  for  musicians.  She  laughed.  You  will 
like  her  when  you  know  her." 

Thus  the  ladies  of  Brookfield  were  led  on  to  be  more 
serious  concerning  Besworth  than  they  had  thought  of 
being,  and  began  to  feel  that  their  honour  was  pledged  to 
purchase  this  surpassing  family  seat.  In  a  household 
where  every  want  was  supplied,  and  money  as  a  topic 
utterly  banished,  it  is  not  surprising  that  they  should  have 
had  imperial  views. 

Adela  was  Wilfrid's  favoured  correspondent.  She  de- 
scribed to  him  gaily  the  struggle  with  their  papa.  "  But, 
if  you  care  for  Besworth,  you  may  calculate  on  it.  —  Or 
is  it  only  for  our  sakes,  as  I  sometimes  think  ?  —  Besworth 
is  won.  Nothing  but  the  cost  of  the  place  (to  be  con- 
sidered you  know!)  could  withhold  it  from  us;  and  of  that 
papa  has  not  uttered  a  syllable,  though  he  conjures  up 


96  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

every  possible  objection  to  a  change  of  abode,  and  will  not 
(perhaps,  poor  dear,  cannot)  see  what  we  intend  doing  in 
the  world.  Now,  you  know  that  rich  men  invariably  make 
the  question  of  the  cost  their  first  and  loudest  outcry.  I 
know  that  to  be  the  case.  They  call  it  their  blood.  Papa 
seems  indifferent  to  this  part  of  the  affair.  He  does  not 
even  allude  to  it.  Still,  we  do  not  progress.  It  is  just  pos- 
sible that  the  Tinleys  have  an  eye  on  beautiful  Besworth. 
Their  own  place  is  bad  enough,  but  good  enough  for  them. 
Give  them  Besworth,  and  they  will  sit  upon  the  neighbour- 
hood. We  shall  be  invaded  by  everything  that  is  mean 
and  low,  and  a  great  chance  will  be  gone  for  us.  I  think 
I  may  say,  for  the  county.  The  country?  Our  advice 
is,  that  you  write  to  papa  one  of  your  cleverest  letters. 
We  know,  darling,  what  you  can  do  with  the  pen  as  well 
as  the  sword.  Write  word  that  you  have  written." 

Wilfrid's  reply  stated  that  he  considered  it  unadvisable 
that  he  should  add  his  voice  to  the  request,  for  the  present. 

The  ladies  submitted  to  this  quietly  until  they  heard 
from  their  father  one  evening  at  dinner  that  he  had  seen 
Wilfrid  in  the  city. 

"He  doesn't  waste  his  time  like  some  young  people  I 
know,"  said  Mr.  Pole,  with  a  wink. 

"  Papa;  is  it  possible  ?  "  cried  Adela. 

"  Everything's  possible,  my  dear." 

"Lady  Charlotte?" 

"  There  is  a  Lady  Charlotte." 

"  Who  would  be  Lady  Charlotte  still,  whatever  occurred ! " 

Mr.  Pole  laughed.  "No,  no.  You  get  nothing  out  of 
me.  All  I  say  is,  be  practical.  The  sun  isn't  always 
shining." 

He  appeared  to  be  elated  with  some  secret  good  news. 

"Have  you  been  over  to  Besworth,  the  last  two  or  three 
days  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  ladies  smiled  radiantly,  acknowledging  Wilfrid's 
wonderful  persuasive  powers,  in  their  hearts. 

"No,  papa;  we  have  not  been,"  said  Adela.  "We  are 
always  anxious  to  go,  as  I  think  you  know." 

The  merchant  chirped  over  his  glass.  "Well,  well* 
There's  a  way." 

"Straight?" 


THE  BESWOETH  QUESTION  97 

"  Over  a  gate ;  ha,  ha ! " 

His  gaiety  would  have  been  perplexing,  but  for  the  allu- 
sion to  Lady  Charlotte. 

The  sisters,  in  their  unfailing  midnight  consultation,  per- 
suaded one  another  that  Wilfrid  had  become  engaged  to 
that  lady.  They  wrote  forthwith  Fine  Shades  to  him  on 
the  subject.  His  answer  was  Boeotian,  and  all  about  Bes- 
worth.  "Press  it  now,"  he  said,  "if  you  really  want  it. 
The  iron  is  hot.  And  above  all  things,  let  me  beg  you  not 
to  be  inconsiderate  to  the  squire,  when  he  and  I  are  doing 
all  we  can  for  you.  I  mean,  we  are  bound  to  consider 
him,  if  there  should  happen  to  be  anything  he  wishes  us 
to  do." 

What  could  the  word  '  inconsiderate '  imply  ?  The  ladies 
were  unable  to  summon  an  idea  to  solve  it.  They  were  sure 
that  no  daughters  could  be  more  perfectly  considerate  and 
ready  to  sacrifice  everything  to  their  father.  In  the  end,  they 
deputed  the  volunteering  Adela  to  sit  with  him  in  the  library, 
and  put  the  question  of  Besworth  decisively,  in  the  name  of 
all.  They,  meantime,  who  had  a  contempt  for  sleep,  waited 
aloft  to  hold  debate  over  the  result  of  the  interview. 

An  hour  after  midnight,  Adela  came  to  them,  looking  pale 
and  uncertain :  her  curls  seeming  to  drip,  and  her  blue  eyes 
wandering  about  the  room,  as  if  she  had  seen  a  thing  that 
kept  her  in  a  quiver  between  belief  and  doubt. 

The  two  ladies  drew  near  to  her,  expressing  no  verbal  im- 
patience, from  which  the  habit  of  government  and  great  views 
naturally  saved  them,  but  singularly  curious. 

Adela' s  first  exclamation:  "I  wish  I  had  not  gone," 
alarmed  them. 

"  Has  any  change  come  to  papa  ?  "  breathed  Arabella. 

Cornelia  smiled.     "  Do  you  not  know  him  too  well  ?  " 

An  acute  glance  from  Adela  made  her  ask  whether  Bes- 
worth was  to  be  surrendered. 

"  Oh,  no !  my  dear.     We  may  have  Besworth." 

"  Then,  surely  ! " 

"  But,  there  are  conditions  ?  "  said  Arabella. 

"Yes.  Wilfrid's  enigma  is  explained.  Bella,  that  woman 
has  seen  papa." 

"What  woman?" 

"Mrs.  Chump." 


98  w.MTT.TA    IN   ENGLAND 

"  She  has  our  permission  to  see  him  in  town,  if  that  is  any 
consolation  to  her." 

"  She  has  told  him,"  continued  Adela,  "  that  no  explana- 
tion, or  whatever  it  may  be,  was  received  by  her." 

"  Certainly  not,  if  it  was  not  sent." 

"  Papa,"  and  Adela's  voice  trembled,  "  papa  will  not  think 
of  Besworth,  —  not  a  word  of  it!  —  until  —  until  we  consent 
to  welcome  that  woman  here  as  our  guest." 

Cornelia  was  the  first  u>  break  the  silence  that  followed 
this  astounding  intelligence.  "  Then,"  she  said,  "  Besworth 
is  not  to  be  thought  of.  You  told  him  so  ?  " 

Adela's  head  drooped.  "  Oh !  "  she  cried,  "  what  shall  we 
do?  We  shall  be  a  laughing-stock  to  the  neighbourhood. 
The  house  will  have  to  be  locked  up.  We  shall  live  like 
hermits  worried  by  a  demon.  Her  brogue!  Do  you  re- 
member it  ?  It  is  not  simply  Irish.  It's  Irish  steeped  in 
brine.  It's  pickled  Irish !  " 

She  feigned  the  bursting  into  tears  of  real  vexation. 

"  You  speak,"  said  Cornelia,  contemptuously,  "  as  if  we 
had  very  humbly  bowed  our  heads  to  the  infection." 

"  Papa  making  terms  with  us ! "  murmured  Arabella. 

"  Pray,  repeat  his  words." 

Adela  tossed  her  curls.  "  I  will,  as  well  as  I  can.  I  began 
by  speaking  of  Besworth  cheerfully ;  saying,  that  if  he  really 
had  no  strong  affection  for  Brookfield,  that  would  make  him 
regret  quitting  it,  we  saw  innumerable  advantages  in  the 
change  of  residence  proposed.  Predilection,  —  not  affection 
—  that  was  what  I  said.  He  replied  that  Besworth  was  a 
large  place,  and  I  pointed  out  that  therein  lay  one  of  its 
principal  merits.  I  expected  what  would  come.  He  alluded 
to  the  possibility  of  our  changing  our  condition.  You  know 
that  idea  haunts  him.  I  told  him  our  opinion  of  the  folly  of 
the  thing.  I  noticed  that  he  grew  red  in  the  face,  and  I  said 
that  of  course  marriage  was  a  thing  ordained,  but  that  we 
objected  to  being  submerged  in  matrimony  until  we  knew 
who  and  what  we  were.  I  confess  he  did  not  make  a  bad 
reply,  of  its  kind.  « You're  like  a  youngster  playing  truant 
that  he  may  gain  knowledge.'  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?  " 

"  A  smart  piece  of  City-speech,"  was  Arabella's  remark  : 
Cornelia  placidly  observing,  "Vulgarity  never  contains  more 
than  a  minimum  of  the  truth." 


THE  BESWORTH   QUESTION  99 

"  I  said,"  Adela  went  on,  " '  Think  as  you  will,  papa,  we 
know  we  are  right.'  He  looked  really  angry.  He  said, 
that  we  have  the  absurdest  ideas — you  tell  me  to  repeat  his 
words  —  of  any  girls  that  ever  existed ;  and  then  he  put  a 
question :  listen :  I  give  it  without  comment :  '  I  dare  say, 
you  all  object  to  widows  marrying  again.'  I  kept  myself 
quiet.  'Marrying  again,  papa!  If  they  marry  once  they 
might  as  well  marry  a  dozen  times.'  It  was  the  best  way  to 
irritate  him.  I  did  not  intend  it ;  that  is  all  I  can  say.  He 
jumped  from  his  chair,  rubbed  his  hair,  and  almost  ran  up 
and  down  the  library  floor,  telling  me  that  I  prevaricated. 
'You  object  to  a  widow  marrying  at  all  —  that's  my  ques- 
tion ! '  he  cried  out  loud.  Of  course  I  contained  my  voice  all 
the  more.  '  Distinctly,  papa.'  When  I  had  spoken,  I  could 
scarcely  help  laughing.  He  went  like  a  pony  that  is  being 
broken  in,  crying,  I  don't  know  how  many  times,  '  Why  ? 
What's  your  reason  ? '  You  may  suppose,  darlings,  that  I 
declined  to  enter  upon  explanation.  If  a  person  is  dense 
upon  a  matter  of  pure  sentiment,  there  is  no  ground  between 
us :  he  has  simply  a  sense  wanting.  '  What  has  all  this  to 
do  with  Besworth  ? '  I  asked.  '  A  great  deal  more  than  you 
fancy,'  was  his  answer.  He  seemed  to  speak  every  word  at 
me  in  capital  letters.  Then,  as  if  a  little  ashamed,  he  sat 
down,  and  reached  out  his  hand  to  mine,  and  I  saw  his  eyes 
were  moist.  I  drew  my  chair  nearer  to  him.  Now,  whether 
I  did  right  or  wrong  in  this,  I  do  not  know :  I  leave  it  en- 
tirely to  your  judgement.  If  you  consider  how  I  was  placed, 
you  will  at  all  events  excuse  me.  What  I  did  was  —  you 
know,  the  very  farthest  suspicion  one  has  of  an  extreme 
possibility  one  does  not  mind  mentioning :  I  said  '  Papa,  if 
it  should  so  happen  that  money  is  the  objection  to  Besworth, 
we  will  not  trouble  you.'  At  this,  I  can  only  say  that  he 
behaved  like  an  insane  person.  He  denounced  me  as  wil- 
fully insulting  him  that  I  might  avoid  one  subject. " 

"  And  what  on  earth  can  that  be  ?  "  interposed  Arabella. 

"  You  may  well  ask.  Could  a  genie  have  guessed  that 
Mrs.  Chump  was  at  the  bottom  of  it  all  ?  The  conclusion 
of  the  dreadful  discussion  is  this,  that  papa  offers  to  take 
the  purchase  of  Besworth  into  his  consideration,  if  we,  as  I 
said  before,  will  receive  Mrs.  Chump  as  our  honoured  guest. 
I  am  bound  to  say,  poor  dear  old  man,  he  spoke  kindly,  as 


100  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

he  always  does,  and  kissed  me,  and  offered  to  give  me  any- 
thing I  might  want.  I  came  from  him  stupefied.  I  have 
hardly  got  my  senses  about  me  yet." 

The  ladies  caressed  her,  with  grave  looks ;  but  neither  of 
them  showed  a  perturbation  of  spirit  like  that  which  dis- 
tressed Adela. 

"Wilfrid's  meaning  is  now  explained,"  said  Cornelia. 
"  He  is  in  league  with  papa ;  or  has  given  in  his  adhesion 
to  papa's  demands,  at  least.  He  is  another  example  of  the 
constant  tendency  in  men  to  be  what  they  call  '  practical ' 
at  the  expense  of  honour  and  sincerity." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Arabella.  "In  any  case,  that  need 
not  depress  you  so  seriously,  darling." 

She  addressed  Adela. 

"  Do  you  not  see  ?  "  Adela  cried,  in  response.  "  What ! 
are  you  both  blind  to  the  real  significance  of  papa's  words  ? 
I  could  not  have  believed  it !  Or  am  I  this  time  too  acute  ? 
I  pray  to  heaven  it  may  be  so ! " 

Both  ladies  desired  her  to  be  explicit ;  Arabella,  eagerly  j 
Cornelia  with  distrust. 

"The  question  of  a  widow  marrying!  What  is  this 
woman,  whom  papa  wishes  to  force  on  us  as  our  guest? 
Why  should  he  do  that  ?  Why  should  he  evince  anxiety 
with  regard  to  our  opinion  of  the  decency  of  widows  con- 
templating re-union  ?  Remember  previous  words  and  hints 
when  we  lived  in  the  city ! " 

"  This  at  least  you  may  spare  us,"  said  Cornelia,  ruffling 
offended. 

Adela  smiled  in  tenderness  for  her  beauty. 

"  But,  it  is  important,  if  we  are  following  a  track,  dear. 
Think  over  it" 

"  No !"  cried  Arabella.  "It  cannot  be  true.  We  might 
easily  have  guessed  this,  if  we  ever  dreamed  of  impossi- 
bilities." 

"  In  such  cases,  when  appearances  lean  in  one  direction, 
set  principles  in  the  opposite  balance,"  added  Cornelia. 
u  What  Adela  apprehends  may  seem  to  impend,  but  we 
know  that  papa  is  incapable  of  doing  it.  To  know  that, 
shuts  the  gates  of  suspicion.  She  has  allowed  herself  to  be 
troubled  by  a  ghastly  nightmare." 

Adela  believed  in  her  own  judgement  too  completely  not 


THE  BBS  WORTH  QUESTION  101 

to  be  sure  that  her  sisters  were,  perhaps  unknowingly,  dis- 
guising a  slowness  of  perception  they  were  ashamed  of,  by 
thus  partially  accusing  her  of  giddiness.  She  bit  her  lip. 

"  Very  well ;  if  you  have  no  fears  whatever,  you  need  not 
abandon  the  idea  of  Besworth." 

"  I  abandon  nothing,"  said  Arabella.  "  If  I  have  to  make 
a  choice,  I  take  that  which  is  least  objectionable.  I  am  cha- 
grined, most,  at  the  idea  that  Wilfrid  has  been  treacherous." 

"  Practical,"  Cornelia  suggested.  "  You  are  not  speaking 
of  one  of  our  sex." 

Questions  were  then  put  to  Adela,  whether  Mr.  Pole  had 
spoken  in  the  manner  of  one  who  was  prompted :  whether 
he  hesitated  as  he  spoke :  whether,  in  short,  Wilfrid  was 
seen  behind  his  tongue.  Adela  resolved  that  Wilfrid  should 
have  one  protectress. 

"  You  are  entirely  mistaken  in  ascribing  treachery  to  him," 
she  said.  "  It  is  papa  that  is  changed.  You  may  suppose  it 
to  be  without  any  reason,  if  you  please.  I  would  tell  you  to 
study  him  for  yourselves,  only  I  am  convinced  that  these 
special  private  interviews  are  anything  but  good  policy,  and 
are  strictly  to  be  avoided,  unless  of  course,  as  in  the  present 
instance,  we  have  something  directly  to  do." 

Toward  dawn  the  ladies  had  decreed  that  it  was  policy 
to  be  quite  passive,  and  provoke  no  word  of  Mrs.  Chump  by 
making  any  allusion  to  Besworth,  and  by  fencing  with  the 
mention  of  the  place. 

As  they  rarely  failed  to  carry  out  any  plan  deliberately 
conceived  by  them,  Mr.  Pole  was  astonished  to  find  that 
Besworth  was  altogether  dropped.  After  certain  scattered 
attempts  to  bring  them  upon  Besworth,  he  shrugged,  and 
resigned  himself,  but  without  looking  happy. 

Indeed  he  looked  so  dismal  that  the  ladies  began  to  think 
he  had  a  great  longing  for  Besworth.  And  yet  he  did  not 
go  there,  or  even  praise  it  to  the  discredit  of  Brookfield ! 
They  were  perplexed. 

"  Let  me  ask  you  how  it  is,"  said  Cornelia  to  Mr.  Barrett, 
"  that  a  person  whom  we  know  —  whose  actions  and  motives 
are  as  plain  to  us  as  though  discerned  through  a  glass, 
should  at  times  produce  a  completer  mystification  than 
any  other  creature  ?  Or  have  you  not  observed  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  had  better  opportunities  of  observing  it  than 


102  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

most  people,"  Mr.  Barrett  replied,  with  one  of  his  saddest 
amused  smiles.  "  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
person  we  know  best  is  the  one  whom  we  never  understand." 

"  You  answer  me  with  a  paradox." 

"  Is  it  not  the  natural  attendant  on  an  assumption  ?  " 

"  What  assumption  ?  " 

"That  you  know  a  person  thoroughly." 

"May  we  not?" 

"  Do  you,  when  you  acknowledge  this  '  complete  mystifi- 
cation '  ?  " 

;<  Yes."  Cornelia  smiled  when  she  had  said  it.  "  And 
no." 

Mr.  Barrett,  with  his  eyes  on  her,  laughed  softly. 
"  Which  is  paradox  at  the  fountain-head !  But,  when  we 
say  we  know  anyone,  we  mean  commonly  that  we  are 
accustomed  to  his  ways  and  habits  of  mind ;  or,  that  we 
can  reckon  on  the  predominant  influence  of  his  appetites. 
Sometimes  we  can  tell  which  impulse  is  likely  to  be  the 
most  active,  and  which  principle  the  least  restraining.  The 
only  knowledge  to  be  trusted  is  a  grounded  or  scientific 
study  of  the  springs  that  move  him,  side  by  side  with  his 
method  of  moving  the  springs.  If  you  fail  to  do  this,  you 
have  two  classes  under  your  eyes :  you  have  sane  and  mad- 
man :  and  it  will  seem  to  you  that  the  ranks  of  the  latter 
are  constantly  being  swollen  in  an  extraordinary  manner. 
The  customary  impression,  as  we  get  older,  is  that  our 
friends  are  the  maddest  people  in  the  world.  You  see,  we 
have  grown  accustomed  to  them  ;  and  now,  if  they  bewilder 
us,  our  judgement,  in  self-defence,  is  compelled  to  set  them 
down  lunatic." 

Cornelia  bowed  her  stately  head  with  gentle  approving 
laughter. 

"  They  must  go,  or  they  despatch  us  thither,"  she  said, 
while  her  fair  face  dimpled  into  serenity.  The  remark  was 
of  a  lower  nature  than  an  intellectual  discussion  ordinarily 
drew  from  her :  but  could  Mr.  Barrett  have  read  in  her 
heart,  he  might  have  seen  that  his  words  were  beginning 
to  rob  that  organ  of  its  native  sobriety.  So  that  when  he 
spoke  a  cogent  phrase,  she  was  silenced,  and  became  aware 
of  a  strange  exultation  in  her  blood  that  obscured  grave 
thought.  Cornelia  attributed  this  display  of  mental  weak- 


THE  BBSWORTH  QUESTION  103 

ness  altogether  to  Mr.  Barrett's  mental  force.  The  inter- 
position of  a  fresh  agency  was  undreamt  of  by  the  lady. 

Meanwhile,  it  was  evident  that  Mr.  Pole  was  a  victim  to 
one  of  his  fevers  of  shyness.  He  would  thrum  on  the 
table,  frowning;  and  then,  as  he  met  the  look  of  one  of  the 
ladies,  try  to  disguise  the  thought  in  his  head  with  a  forced 
laugh.  Occasionally,  he  would  turn  toward  them,  as  if  he 
had  just  caught  a  lost  idea  that  was  peculiarly  precious. 
The  ladies  drawing  up  to  attend  to  the  communication,  had 
a  most  trivial  matter  imparted  to  them,  and  away  he  went. 
Several  times  he  said  to  them :  "  You  don't  make  friends, 
as  you  ought ; "  and  their  repudiation  of  the  charge  made 
him  repeat :  "  You  don't  make  friends  —  home  friends." 

"  The  house  can  be  as  full  as  we  care  to  have  it,  papa." 

"  Yes,  acquaintances !  All  very  well,  but  I  mean  friends 
—  rich  friends." 

"  We  will  think  of  it,  papa,"  said  Adela,  "  when  we  want 
money." 

"  It  isn't  that,"  he  murmured. 

Adela  had  written  to  Wilfrid  a  full  account  of  her  inter- 
view with  her  father.  Wilfrid's  reply  was  laconic.  "If 
you  cannot  stand  a  week  of  the  brogue,  give  up  Besworth, 
by  all  means."  He  made  no  further  allusion  to  the  place. 
They  engaged  an  opera-box,  for  the  purpose  of  holding  a 
consultation  with  him  in  town.  He  wrote  evasively,  but 
did  not  appear,  and  the  ladies,  with  Emilia  between  them, 
listened  to  every  foot-fall  by  the  box-door,  and  were  too 
much  preoccupied  to  marvel  that  Emilia  was  just  as  inat- 
tentive to  the  music  as  they  were.  When  the  curtain 
dropped  they  noticed  her  dejection. 

"  What  ails  you  ?  "  they  asked. 

"  Let  us  go  out  of  London  to-night,"  she  whispered,  and 
it  was  difficult  to  persuade  her  that  she  would  see  Brook- 
field  again. 

"  Remember,"  said  Adela,  "  it  is  you  that  run  away  from 
us,  not  we  from  you." 

Soft  chidings  of  this  description  were  the  only  reproaches 
for  her  naughty  conduct.  She  seemed  contrite :  very  still 
and  timid,  since  that  night  of  adventure.  The  ladies  were 
glad  to  observe  it,  seeing  that  it  lent  her  an  air  of  refine- 
ment, and  proved  her  sensible  to  correction. 


104  EMILIA  IN  ENGI/AND 

At  last  Mr.  Pole  broke  the  silence.  He  had  returned 
from  business,  humming  and  rubbing  his  hands,  like  one 
newly  primed  with  a  suggestion  that  was  the  key  of  a  knotty 
problem.  Observant  Adela  said :  "  Have  you  seen  Wilfrid, 
papa?" 

"  Saw  him  in  the  morning,"  Mr.  Pole  replied  carelessly. 

Mr.  Barrett  was  at  the  table. 

"  By  the  way,  what  do  you  think  of  our  law  of  primogeni- 
ture ?  "  Mr.  Pole  addressed  him. 

He  replied  with  the  usual  allusion  to  a  basis  of  aristocracy. 

"  Well,  it's  the  English  system,"  said  Mr.  Pole.  "  That's 
always  in  its  favour  at  starting.  I'm  Englishman  enough 
to  think  that.  There  ought  to  be  an  entail  of  every  decent 
bit  of  property,  eh  ?  " 

It  was  observed  that  Mr.  Barrett  reddened  as  he  said,  "  I 
certainly  think  that  a  young  man  should  not  be  subject  to 
his  father's  caprice." 

"  Father's  caprice !  That  isn't  common.  But,  if  you're 
founding  a  family,  you  must  entail." 

"  We  agree,  sir,  from  my  point  of  view,  and  from  yours." 

"Knits  the  family  bond,  don't  you  think?  I  mean, 
makes  the  trunk  of  the  tree  firm.  It  makes  the  girls  poor, 
though ! » 

Mr.  Barrett  saw  that  he  had  some  confused  legal  ideas  in 
his  head,  and  that  possibly  there  were  personal  considera- 
tions in  the  background ;  so  he  let  the  subject  pass. 

When  the  guest  had  departed,  Mr.  Pole  grew  demonstra- 
tive in  his  paternal  caresses.  He  folded  Adela  in  one  arm, 
and  framed  her  chin  in  his  fingers :  marks  of  affection  dear 
to  her  before  she  had  outgrown  them. 

" So ! "  he  said,  "you've  given  up  Besworth,  have  you? " 

At  the  name,  Arabella  and  Cornelia  drew  nearer  to  his 
chair. 

"Given  up  Besworth,  papa?  It  is  not  we  who  have 
given  it  up,"  said  Adela. 

"  Yes,  you  have ;  and  quite  right  too.  You  say,  'What's 
the  use  of  it,  for  that's  a  sort  of  thing  that  always  goes  to 
the  son.' " 

"  Y°u  suppose,  papa,  that  we  indulge  in  ulterior  calcula- 
tions ?     came  from  Cornelia. 
"Well,  you  see,  my  love!  — no,  I  don't  suppose  it  at  all. 


THE  BES  WORTH   QUESTION  105 

But  to  buy  a  place  and  split  it  up  after  two  or  three  years  —  I 
dare  say  they  wouldn't  insure  me  for  more,  —  that's  nonsense. 
And  it  seems  unfair  to  you,  as  you  must  think " 

"  Darling  papa !  we  are  not  selfish ! "  it  rejoiced  Adela  to 
exclaim. 

His  face  expressed  a  transparent  simple-mindedness  that 
won  the  confidence  of  the  ladies  and  awakened  their  ideal 
of  generosity. 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,  papa,"  said  Arabella.  "  But, 
we  love  Bes worth ;  and  if  we  may  enjoy  the  place  for  the 
time  that  we  are  all  together,  I  shall  think  it  sufficient. 
I  do  not  look  beyond." 

Her  sisters  echoed  the  sentiment,  and  sincerely.  They 
were  as  little  sordid  as  creatures  could  be.  If  deeply  ques- 
tioned, it  would  have  been  found  that  their  notion  of  the 
position  Providence  had  placed  them  in  (in  other  words, 
their  father's  unmentioned  wealth),  permitted  them  to  be 
as  lavish  as  they  pleased.  Mr.  Pole  had  endowed  them 
with  a  temperament  similar  to  his  own;  and  he  had  edu- 
cated it.  In  feminine  earth  it  flourished  wonderfully. 
Shy  as  himself,  their  shyness  took  other  forms,  and  devel- 
oped with  warm  youth.  Not  only  did  it  shut  them  up 
from  others  (which  is  the  first  effect  of  this  disease),  but  it 
tyrannized  over  them  internally :  so  that  there  were  sub- 
jects they  had  no  power  to  bring  their  minds  to  consider. 
Money  was  in  the  list.  The  Besworth  question,  as  at  pres- 
ent considered,  involved  the  money  question.  All  of  them 
felt  that ;  father  and  children.  It  is  not  surprising,  there- 
fore, that  they  hurried  over  it  as  speedily  as  they  could, 
and  by  a  most  comical  exhibition  of  implied  comprehension 
of  meanings  and  motives. 

"  Of  course,  we're  only  in  the  opening  stage  of  the  busi- 
ness," said  Mr.  Pole.  "  There's  nothing  decided,  you  know. 
Lots  of  things  got  to  be  considered.  You  mean  what  you 
say,  do  you?  Very  well.  And  you  want  me  to  think  of 

it  ?  So  I  will.  And  look,  my  dears,  you  know  that " 

(here  his  voice  grew  husky,  as  was  the  case  with  it  when 
touching  a  shy  topic  even  beneath  the  veil ;  but  they  were 
above  suspicion)  "you  know  that  —  a  —  that  we  must  all 
give  way  a  little  to  the  other,  now  and  then.  Nothing  like 
being  kind." 


IN  ENGLAND 

"  Pray,  have  no  fear,  papa  dear ! "  rang  the  clear  voice  of 

Arabella.  ,   .,  .    ,. 

«  Well,  then,  you're  all  for  Besworth,  even  though  it  isn  t 
exactly  for  your  own  interest  ?  All  right." 

The  ladies  kissed  him. 

«  We'll  each  stretch  a  point,"  he  continued.  We  shall 
get  on  better  if  we  do.  Much!  You're  a  little  hard  on 
people  who're  not  up  to  the  mark.  There's  an  end  to  that. 
Even  your  old  father  will  like  you  better." 

These  last  remarks  were  unintelligible  to  the  withdrawing 

ladies. 

On  the  morning  that  followed,  Mr.  Pole  expressed  a  hope 
that  his  daughters  intended  to  give  him  a  good  dinner  that 
day ;  and  he  winked  humorously  and  kindly :  by  which  they 
understood  him  to  be  addressing  a  sort  of  propitiation  to 
them  for  the  respect  he  paid  to  his  appetite. 

"  Papa,"  said  Adela,  "  I  myself  will  speak  to  Cook." 

She  added,  with  a  smile  thrown  to  her  sisters,  without 
looking  at  them,  "I  dare  say  she  will  know  who  I  am." 

Mr.  Pole  went  down  to  his  wine-cellar,  and  was  there  busy 
with  bottles  till  the  carriage  came  for  him.  A  bason  was 
fetched  that  he  might  wash  off  the  dust  and  cobwebs  in  the 
passage.  Having  rubbed  his  hands  briskly  with  soap,  he 
dipped  his  head  likewise,  in  an  oblivious  fit,  and  then  turn- 
ing round  to  the  ladies,  said,  "  What  have  I  forgotten  ?  " 
looking  woebegone  with  his  dripping  vacant  face.  "  Oh,  ah ! 
I  remember  now ; "  and  he  chuckled  gladly. 

He  had  just  for  one  moment  forgotten  that  he  was  acting, 
and  a  pang  of  apprehension  had  caught  him  when  the  water 
covered  his  face,  to  the  effect  that  he  must  forfeit  the  natural 
artistic  sequence  of  speech  and  conduct  which  disguised  him 
•o  perfectly.  Away  he  drove,  nodding  and  waving  his  hand. 

"  Dear,  simple,  innocent  old  man ! "  was  the  pitiful  thought 
in  the  bosoms  of  the  ladies ;  and  if  it  was  accompanied  by 
the  mute  exclamation,  "How  singular  that  we  should  de- 
scend from  him ! "  it  would  not  have  been  for  the  first  time. 

They  passed  one  of  their  delightful  quiet  days,  in  which 
they  paved  the  future  with  gold,  and,  if  I  may  use  so  bold  a 
figure,  lifted  parasols  against  the  great  sun  that  was  to  shine  on 
them.  Now  they  listened  to  Emilia,  and  now  strolled  in  the 
garden ;  conversed  on  the  social  skill  of  Lady  Gosstre,  who 


THE  BESWORTH   QUESTION  107 

was  nevertheless  narrow  in  her  range ;  and  on  the  capacities 
of  mansions,  on  the  secret  of  mixing  people  in  society,  and 
what  to  do  with  the  women !  A  terrible  problem,  this  latter 
one.  Not  terrible  (to  hostesses)  at  a  mere  rout  or  drum,  or  at 
a  dance  pure  and  simple,  but  terrible  when  you  want  good 
talk  to  circulate :  for  then  they  are  not,  as  a  body,  amused ; 
and  when  they  are  not  amused,  you  know,  they  are  not 
inclined  to  be  harmless ;  and  in  this  state  they  are  vipers ; 
and  where  is  society  then  ?  And  yet  you  cannot  do  without 
them !  —  which  is  the  revolving  mystery.  I  need  not  say 
that  I  am  not  responsible  for  these  critical  remarks.  Such 
tenderness  to  the  sex  comes  only  from  its  sisters. 

So  went  a  day  rich  in  fair  dreams  to  the  ladies ;  and  at  tnt> 
hour  of  their  father's  return  they  walked  across  the  parvenu 
park,  in  a  state  of  enthusiasm  for  Besworth,  that  threw  some 
portion  of  its  decorative  light  on  the  donor  of  Besworth. 
When  his  carriage  was  heard  on  the  road,  they  stood  fast, 
and  greeted  his  appearance  with  a  display  of  pocket-handker- 
chiefs in  the  breeze,  a  proceeding  that  should  have  astonished 
him,  being  novel ;  but  seemed  not  to  do  so,  for  it  was  imme- 
diately responded  to  by  the  vigorous  waving  of  a  pair  of 
pocket-handkerchiefs  from  the  carriage- window !  The  ladies 
smiled  at  this  piece  of  simplicity  which  prompted  him  to  use 
both  his  hands,  as  if  one  would  not  have  been  enough.  Com- 
placently they  continued  waving.  Then  Adela  looked  at  her 
sisters ;  Cornelia's  hand  dropped :  and  Arabella,  the  last  to 
wave,  was  the  first  to  exclaim :  "  That  must  be  a  woman's 
arm!" 

The  carriage  stopped  at  the  gate,  and  it  was  one  in  the 
dress  of  a  woman  at  least,  and  of  the  compass  of  a  big  woman, 
who  descended  by  the  aid  of  Mr.  Pole.  Safely  alighted,  she 
waved  her  pocket-handkerchief  afresh.  The  ladies  of  Brook- 
field  did  not  speak  to  one  another ;  nor  did  they  move  their 
eyes  from  the  object  approaching.  A  simultaneous  furtive 
extinction  of  three  pocket-handkerchiefs  might  have  been 
noticed.  There  was  no  further  sign  given. 


108  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

CHAPTER  XV 
WILFRID'S  EXHIBITION  OF  TREACHERY 

A  LETTER  from  Brookfield  apprised  Wilfrid  that  Mr.  Pole 
had  brought  Mrs.  Chump  to  the  place  as  a  visitor,  and  that 
she  was  now  in  the  house.  Formal  as  a  circular,  the  idea  of 
it  appeared  to  be  that  the  bare  fact  would  tell  him  enough 
and  inspire  him  with  proper  designs.  No  reply  being  sent, 
a  second  letter  arrived,  formal  too,  but  pointing  out  his  duty 
to  succour  his  afflicted  family,  and  furnishing  a  few  tragic 
particulars.  Thus  he  learnt,  that  while  Mr.  Pole  was  ad- 
vancing toward  the  three  grouped  ladies,  on  the  day  of  Mrs. 
Chump's  arrival,  he  called  Arabella  by  name,  and  Arabella 
went  forward  alone,  and  was  engaged  in  conversation  by 
Mrs.  Chump.  Mr.  Pole  left  them  to  make  his  way  to 
Adela  and  Cornelia.  '''Now,  mind,  I  expect  you  to  keep 
to  your  agreement,"  he  said.  Gradually  they  were  led  on 
to  perceive  that  this  simple-minded  man  had  understood 
their  recent  talk  of  Besworth  to  signify  a  consent  to  the 
•  stipulation  he  had  previously  mentioned  to  Adela.  "  Perfect 
simplicity  is  as  deceiving  as  the  depth  of  cunning,"  Adela 
despairingly  wrote,  much  to  Wilfrid's  amusement. 

A  third  letter  followed.  It  was  of  another  tenor,  and  ran 
thus,  in  Adela's  handwriting:  — 

"Mr  DARLING  WILFRID, 

"We  have  always  known  that  some  peculiar  assistance 

would  never  be  wanting  in  our  extremity — aid,  or  comfort,  or 

whatever  you  please  to  call  it.     At  all  events,  something  to 

show  we  are  not  neglected.    That  old  notion  of  ours  must  be 

I  shall  say  nothing  of  our  sufferings  in  the  house. 

They  continue.     Yesterday,  papa  came  from  town,  looking 

He  had  up  some  of  his  best  wine  for  dinner. 

All  through  the  service  his  eyes  were  sparkling  on  Cornelia. 

1  spare  you  a  family  picture,  while  there  is  this  huge  blot  on 

it     Naughty  brother !     But,  listen !  your  place  is  here,  for 

iany  reasons,  as  you  will  be  quick  enough  to  see.     After 

nner,  papa  took  Cornelia  into  the  library  alone,  and  they 


•WILFRID'S  EXHIBITION  OF  TREACHERY       109 

were  together  for  ten  minutes.  She  came  out  very  pale. 
She  has  been  proposed  for  by  Sir  Twickenham  Pryme,  our 
Member  for  the  borough.  I  have  always  been  sure  that 
Cornelia  was  born  for  Parliament,  and  he  will  be  lucky  if  he 
wins  her.  We  know  not  yet,  of  course,  what  her  decision 
will  be.  The  incident  is  chiefly  remarkable  to  us  as  a  relief 
to  what  I  need  not  recount  to  you.  But  I  wish  to  say  one 
thing,  dear  Wilfrid.  You  are  gazetted  to  a  lieutenancy,  and 
we  congratulate  you :  but  what  I  have  to  say  is  apparently 
much  more  trifling,  and  it  is,  that  —  will  you  take  it  to 
heart  ?  —  it  would  do  Arabella  and  myself  infinite  good  if 
we  saw  a  little  more  of  our  brother,  and  just  a  little  less  of 
a  very  gentlemanly  organ-player  phenomenon,  who  talks  so 
exceeding  well.  He  is  a  very  pleasant  man,  and  appreciates 
our  ideas,  and  so  forth;  but  it  is  our  duty  to  love  our 
brother  best,  and  think  of  him  foremost,  and  we  wish  him 
to  come  and  remind  us  of  our  duty. 

"  At  our  Cornelia's  request,  with  our  concurrence,  papa  is 
silent  in  the  house  as  to  the  purport  of  the  communication 
made  by  Sir  T.  P. 

"  By  the  way,  are  you  at  all  conscious  of  a  sound-like 
absurdity  in  a  Christian  name  of  three  syllables  preceding  a 
surname  of  one  ?  Sir  Twickenham  Pryme !  Cornelia's  pro- 
nunciation of  the  name  first  gave  me  the  feeling.  The 
'  Twickenham '  seems  to  perform  a  sort  of  educated-monkey 
kind  of  ridiculously  decorous  pirouette  and  entrechat  before 
the '  Pryme.'  I  think  that  Cornelia  feels  it  also.  You  seem 
to  fancy  elastic  limbs  bending  to  the  measure  of  a  solemn 
church-organ.  Sir  Timothy  ?  But  Sir  Timothy  does  not 
jump  with  the  same  grave  agility  as  Sir  Twickenham !  If 
she  rejects  him,  it  will  be  half  attributable  to  this. 

"  My  own  brother  !  I  expect  no  confidences,  but  a  whis- 
per warns  me  that  you  have  not  been  to  Stornley  twice 
without  experiencing  the  truth  of  our  old  discovery,  that  the 
Poles  are  magnetic.  Why  should  we  conceal  it  from  our- 
selves, if  it  be  so  ?  I  think  it  a  folly,  and  fraught  with 
danger,  for  people  not  to  know  their  characteristics.  If  they 
attract,  they  should  keep  in  a  circle  where  they  will  have  no 
reason  to  revolt  at,  or  say,  repent  of  what  they  attract.  My 
argumentative  sister  does  not  coincide.  If  she  did,  she 
would  lose  her  argument. 


HO  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"  Adieu !    Such  is  my  dulness,  I  doubt  whether  I  hare 
my  meaning  clear. 

"  Your  thrice  affectionate 

"  ADELA. 

«  p.8. Lady  Gosstre  has  just  taken  Emilia  to  Richford 

for  a  week.    Papa  starts  for  Bidport  to-morrow." 

This  short  and  rather  bruit  exercise  in  Fine  Shades  was 
read  impatiently  by  Wilfrid.  "  Why  doesn't  she  write  plain 
to  the  sense  ?  "  he  asked,  with  the  usual  injustice  of  men, 
who  demand  a  statement  of  facts,  forgetting  how  few  there 
are  to  feed  the  post ;  and  that  indication  and  suggestion  are 
the  only  language  for  the  multitude  of  facts  unborn  and 
possible.  Twilight  best  shows  to  the  eye  what  may  be. 

"  I  suppose  I  must  go  down  there,"  he  said  to  himself, 
keeping  a  meditative  watch  on  the  postscript,  as  if  it  pos- 
sessed the  capability  of  slipping  away  and  deceiving  him. 
"Does  she  mean  that  Cornelia  sees  too  much  of  this  man 
Barrett  ?  or,  what  does  she  mean  ? "  And  now  he  saw 
meanings  in  the  simple  passages,  and  none  at  all  in  the 
intricate  ones ;  and  the  double-meanings  were  monsters  that 
ate  one  another  up  till  nothing  remained  of  them.  In  the 
end,  however,  he  made  a  wrathful  guess  and  came  to  a  reso- 
lution, which  brought  him  to  the  door  of  the  house  next 
day  at  noon.  He  took  some  pains  in  noting  the  exact  spot 
where  he  had  last  seen  Emilia  half  in  moonlight,  and  then 
dismissed  her  image  peremptorily.  The  house  was  appar- 
ently empty.  Gainsford,  the  footman,  gave  information  that 
he  thought  the  ladies  were  upstairs,  but  did  not  volunteer 
to  send  a  maid  to  them.  He  stood  in  deferential  footman's 
attitude,  with  the  aspect  of  a  dog  who  would  laugh  if  he 
could,  but  being  a  footman  out  of  his  natural  element, 
cannot. 

"  Here's  a  specimen  of  the  new  plan  of  treating  servants ! " 
thought  Wilfrid,  turning  away.  "  To  act  a  farce  for  their 
benefit !  That  fellow  will  explode  when  he  gets  downstairs. 
I  see  how  it  is.  This  woman,  Chump,  is  making  them  behave 
like  schoolgirls." 

He  conceived  the  idea  sharply,  and  forthwith,  without  any 
preparation,  he  was  ready  to  treat  these  high-aspiring  ladies 
like  schoolgirls.  Nor  was  there  a  lack  of  justification;  for 


WILFRID'S  EXHIBITION  OF  TREACHERY       111 

when  they  came  down  to  his  shouts  in  the  passage,  they 
hushed,  and  held  a  finger  aloft,  and  looked  altogether  so 
unlike  what  they  aimed  at  being,  that  Wilfrid's  sense  of 
mastery  became  almost  contempt. 

"I  know  perfectly  what  you  have  to  tell  me,"  he  said. 
"  Mrs.  Chump  is  here,  you  have  quarrelled  with  her,  and  she 
has  shut  her  door,  and  you  have  shut  yours.  It's  quite 
intelligible  and  full  of  dignity.  I  really  can't  smother  my 
voice  in  consequence." 

He  laughed  with  unnecessary  abandonment.  The  sensi- 
tive young  women  wanted  no  other  schooling  to  recover 
themselves.  In  a  moment  they  were  seen  leaning  back  and 
contemplating  him  amusedly,  as  if  he  had  been  the  comic 
spectacle,  and  were  laughing  for  a  wager.  There  are  few 
things  so  sour  as  the  swallowing  of  one's  own  forced  laugh. 
Wilfrid  got  it  down,  and  commenced  a  lecture  to  fill  the 
awkward  pause.  His  sisters  maintained  the  opera-stall  post- 
ure of  languid  attention,  contesting  his  phrases  simply  with 
their  eyebrows,  and  smiling.  He  was  no  match  for  them 
while  they  chose  to  be  silent :  and  indeed  if  the  business  of 
life  were  conducted  in  dumb  show,  women  would  beat  men 
hollow.  They  posture  admirably.  In  dumb  show  they  are 
equally  good  for  attack  and  defence.  But  this  is  not  the 
case  in  speech.  So,  when  Arabella  explained  that  their  hope 
was  to  see  Mrs.  Chump  go  that  day,  owing  to  the  rigorous 
exclusion  of  all  amusement  and  the  outer  world  from  the 
house,  Wilfrid  regained  his  superior  footing  and  made  his 
lecture  tell.  In  the  middle  of  it,  there  rang  a  cry  from  the 
doorway  that  astonished  even  him,  it  was  so  powerfully  Irish. 

"  The  lady  you  have  called  down  is  here,"  said  Arabella's 
cold  glance,  in  answer  to  his. 

They  sat  with  folded  hands  while  Wilfrid  turned  to  Mrs. 
Chump,  who  advanced,  a  shock  of  blue  satin  to  the  eye, 
crying,  on  a  jump :  "  Is  ut  Mr.  Wilfrud  ?  " 

"  It's  I,  ma'am."  Wilfrid  bowed,  and  the  censorious  ladies 
could  not  deny  that  his  style  was  good,  if  his  object  was  tc 
be  familiar.  And  if  that  was  his  object,  he  was  paid  for  it. 
A  great  thick  kiss  was  planted  on  his  cheek,  with  the  motto: 
"  Harm  to  them  that  thinks  ut." 

Wilfrid  bore  the  salute  like  a  man  who  presumes  that  he 
is  flattered. 


112  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"  And  it's  you  !  "  said  Mrs.  Chump.  "  I  was  just  off.  I'm 
packed,  and  bonnutted,  and  ready  for  a  start ;  becas,  my  dear, 
where  there's  none  but  women,  I  don't  think  it  natural  to 
stop.  You're  splendud !  How  a  little  fella  like  Pole  could 
go  and  be  father  to  such  a  mighty  big  son,  with  your  bit  of 
moustache  and  your  blue  eyes!  Are  they  blue  or  a  bit 
of  grey  in  'em  ?  "  Mrs.  Chump  peered  closely.  "  They're 
kill'n',  let  their  colour  be  annyhow.  And  I  that  knew  ye 
when  ye  were  no  bigger  than  my  garter !  Oh,  sir !  don't 
talk  of  ut;  I'll  be  thinkin'  of  my  coffin.  Ye're  glad  to  see 
me  ?  Say,  yes.  Do ! " 

"  Very  glad,"  quoth  Wilfrid. 

"  Upon  your  honour,  now  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  honour ! " 

"My  dears"  (Mrs.  Chump  turned  to  the  ladies),  "I'll 
stop ;  and  just  thank  your  brother  for't,  though  you  can't 
help  being  garls." 

Reduced  once  more  to  demonstrate  like  schoolgirls  by  this 
woman,  the  ladies  rose  together,  and  were  retiring,  when  Mrs. 
Chump  swung  round  and  caught  Arabella's  hand.  "See 
heer,"  she  motioned  to  Wilfrid.  Arabella  made  a  bitter 
effort  to  disengage  herself.  "  See,  now  !  It's  jeal'sy  of  me, 
Mr.  Wilf rud,  becas  I'm  a  widde  and  just  an  abom'nation  to 
garls,  poor  darlin's !  And  twenty  shindies  per  dime  we've 
been  havin',  and  me  such  a  placable  body,  if  ye'll  onnly  let  m' 
explode.  I'm  all  powder,  avery  bit!  and  might  ha'  been 
christened  Saltpetre,  if  born  a  boy.  She  hasn't  so  much  as  a 
shot  to  kill  a  goose,  says  Chump,  poor  fella !  But  he  went, 
annyway.  I  must  kiss  somebody  when  I  talk  of  'm.  Mr. 
Wilfrud,  I'll  take  the  girls,  and  entitle  myself  to  you." 

Arabella  was  the  first  victim.  Her  remonstrance  was  inar- 
ticulate. Cornelia's  "  Madam  ! "  was  smothered.  Adela 
behaved  better,  being  more  consciously  under  Wilfrid's  eye ; 
she  prepared  her  pocket-handkerchief,  received  the  salute, 
and  deliberately  effaced  it. 

"  There ! "  said  Mrs.  Chump  ;  "  duty  to  begin  with.  And 
now  for  you,  Mr.  Wilfrud." 

The  ladies  escaped.  Their  misery  could  not  be  conveyed 
to  the  mind.  The  woman  was  like  a  demon  come  among 
them.  They  felt  chiefly  degraded,  not  by  her  vulgarity,  but 
by  their  inability  to  cope  with  it,  and  by  the  consequent 


WILFRID'S  EXHIBITION  OF  TREACHERY        113 

sickening  sense  of  animal  inefficiency  —  the  block  that  was 
put  to  all  imaginative  delight  in  the  golden  hazy  future  they 
figured  for  themselves,  and  which  was  their  wine  of  life.  An 
intellectual  adversary  they  could  have  combated ;  this  huge 
brogue-burring  engine  quite  overwhelmed  them.  Wilfrid's 
worse  than  shameful  behaviour  was  a  common  rallying-point ; 
and  yet,  so  absolutely  critical  were  they  by  nature,  their 
blame  of  him  was  held  mentally  in  restraint  by  the  superior 
ease  of  his  manner  as  contrasted  with  their  own  lamentably 
silly  awkwardness.  Highly  civilized  natures  do  sometimes, 
and  keen  wits  must  always,  feel  dissatisfied  when  they  are 
not  on  the  laughing  side:  their  dread  of  laughter  is  an 
instinctive  respect  for  it. 

Dinner  brought  them  all  together  again.  Wilfrid  took  hif 
father's  seat,  facing  his  Aunt  Lupin,  and  increased  the  distress 
of  his  sisters  by  his  observance  of  every  duty  of  a  host  to  the 
dreadful  intruder,  whom  he  thus  established  among  them. 
He  was  incomprehensible.  His  visit  to  Stornley  had  wrought 
in  him  a  total  change.  He  used  to  like  being  petted,  and 
would  regard  everything  as  right  that  his  sisters  did,  before 
he  went  there ;  and  was  a  languid,  long-legged,  indifferent 
cavalier,  representing  men  to  them :  things  made  to  be 
managed,  snubbed,  admired,  but  always  virtually  subservient 
and  in  the  background.  Now,  without  perceptible  gradation, 
his  superiority  was  suddenly  manifest ;  so  that,  irritated  and 
apprehensive  as  they  were,  they  could  not,  by  the  aid  of  any 
of  their  intricate  mental  machinery,  look  down  on  him.  They 
tried  to ;  they  tried  hard  to  think  him  despicable  as  well  as 
treacherous.  His  style  was  too  good.  When  he  informed 
Mrs.  Chump  that  he  had  hired  a  yacht  for  the  season,  and 
added,  after  enlarging  on  the  merits  of  the  vessel,  "  I  am 
under  your  orders,"  his  sisters  were  as  creatures  cut  in  twain 
—  one  half  abominating  his  conduct,  the  other  approving  his 
style.  The  bow,  the  smile,  were  perfect.  The  ladies  had  to 
make  an  effort  to  recover  their  condemnatory  judgement. 

"  Oh  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Chump ;  "  and  if  you've  got  a  yacht, 
Mr.  Wilf  rud,  won't  ye  have  a  great  parcel  o'  the  arr'stocracy 
on  board  ?  " 

"You  may  spy  a  title  by  the  aid  of  a  telescope,"  said 
Wilfrid. 

"  And  I'm  to  come,  I  am  ?  n 


114  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

"  Are  you  not  elected  captain  ?  " 

"  Oh,  if  ye've  got  lords  and  real  ladus  on  board,  I'll  come, 
be  sure  of  ut !  I'll  be  as  sick  as  a  cat,  I  will.  But,  I'll  come, 
if  it's  the  rroon  of  my  stomach.  I'd  say  to  Chump,  '  Oh,  if 
ye'd  onnly  been  born  a  lord,  or  would  just  get  yourself  struck 
a  knight  on  one  o'  your  shoulders,  —  oh,  Chump ! '  I'd  say, 
'  it  wouldn't  be  necessary  to  be  rememberin'  always  the  words 
of  the  cerr'mony  about  lovin'  and  honourin'  and  obeyin'  of  a 
little  whistle  of  a  fella  like  you.'  Poor  lad !  he  couldn't  stop 
for  his  luck !  Did  ye  ask  me  to  take  wine,  Mr.  Wilfrud  ? 
I'll  be  cryin',  else,  as  a  widde  should,  ye  know ! " 

Frequent  administrations  of  wine  arrested  the  tears  of  Mrs. 
Chump,  until  it  is  possible  that  the  fulness  of  many  a  checked 
flow  caused  her  to  redden  and  talk  slightly  at  random.  At 
the  first  mention  of  their  father's  name,  the  ladies  went  out 
from  the  room.  It  was  foolish,  for  they  might  have  watched 
the  effect  of  certain  vinous  innuendoes  addressed  to  Wilfrid's 
apprehensiveness ;  but  they  were  weakened  and  humbled, 
and  everything  they  did  was  foolish.  From  the  fact  that 
they  offended  their  keen  critical  taste,  moreover,  they  were 
targets  to  the  shaft  that  wounds  more  fatally  than  all.  No 
ridicule  knocks  the  strength  out  of  us  so  thoroughly  as  our 
own. 

Whether  or  not  he  guessed  their  condition  favourable  for 
his  plans,  Wilfrid  did  not  give  them  time  to  call  back  their 
scattered  powers.  At  the  hour  of  eleven  he  sent  for  Arabella 
to  come  to  him  in  the  library.  The  council  upstairs  per- 
mitted Arabella  to  go,  on  the  understanding  that  she  was 
prepared  for  hostilities,  and  ready  to  tear  the  mask  from 
Wilfrid's  face. 

He  commenced,  without  a  shadow  of  circumlocution,  and 
in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  as  if  all  respect  for  the  peculiar 
genius  of  the  house  of  Pole  had  vanished ;  "I  sent  for  you 
to  talk  a  word  or  two  about  this  woman,  who,  I  see,  troubles 
you  a  little.  I'm  sorry  she's  in  the  house." 

'  Indeed  !  "  said  Arabella. 

"I'm  sorry  she's  in  the  house,  not  for  my  sake,  but  for 
yours,  since  the  proximity  does  not  seem  to  ...  I  needn't 
explain.  It  comes  of  your  eternal  consultations.  You  are 
the  eldest.  Why  not  act  according  to  your  judgement,  which 
is  generally  sound  ?  You  listen  to  Adela,  young  as  she  is ; 


WILFRID'S  EXHIBITION  OF  TREACHERY        115 

or  a  look  of  Cornelia's  leads  you.  The  result  is  the  sort  of 
scene  I  saw  this  afternoon.  I  confess  it  has  changed  my 
opinion  of  you ;  it  has,  I  grieve  to  say  it.  This  woman  is 
your  father's  guest ;  you  can't  hurt  her  so  much  as  you  hurt 
him,  if  you  misbehave  to  her.  You  can't  openly  object  to 
her  and  not  cast  a  slur  upon  him.  There  is  the  whole  case. 
He  has  insisted,  and  you  must  submit.  You  should  have 
fought  the  battle  before  she  came." 

"  She  is  here,  owing  to  a  miserable  misconception,"  said 
Arabella. 

"  Ah !  she  is  here,  however.  That  is  the  essential,  as  your 
old  governess  Madame  Timpan  would  have  said." 

"  Nor  can  a  protest  against  coarseness  be  sweepingly  inter- 
preted as  a  piece  of  unfilial  behaviour,"  said  Arabella. 

"  She  is  coarse,"  Wilfrid  nodded  his  head.  "  There  are 
some  forms  of  coarseness  which  dowagers  would  call  it 
coarseness  to  notice." 

"  Not  if  you  find  it  locked  up  in  the  house  with  you  —  not 
if  you  siiffer  under  a  constant  repulsion.  Pray,  do  not  use 
these  phrases  to  me,  Wilfrid.  An  accusation  of  coarseness 
cannot  touch  us." 

"  No,  certainly,"  assented  Wilfrid.  "  And  you  have  a  right 
to  protest.  I  disapprove  the  form  of  your  protest  —  nothing 
more.  A  schoolgirl's  .  .  .  but  you  complain  of  the  use  of 
comparisons." 

"  I  complain,  Wilfrid,  of  your  want  of  sympathy." 

"  That  for  two  or  three  weeks  you  must  hear  a  brogue  at 
your  elbow  ?  The  poor  creature  is  not  so  bad ;  she  is  good- 
hearted.  It's  hard  that  you  should  have  to  bear  with  her 
for  that  time  and  receive  nothing  better  than  Besworth  as 
your  reward." 

"  Very ;  seeing  that  we  endure  the  evil  and  decline  the  sop 
with  it." 

"How?" 

"  We  have  renounced  Besworth." 

"  Have  you !  And  did  this  renunciation  make  you  all  sit 
on  the  edge  of  your  chairs,  this  afternoon,  as  if  Edward 
Buxley  had  arranged  you  ?  You  give  up  Besworth  ?  I'm 
afraid  it's  too  late." 

"  Oh,  Wilfrid !  can  you  be  ignorant  that  something  more 
is  involved  in  the  purchase  of  Besworth  ?  " 


116  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

Arabella  gazed  at  him  with  distressful  eagerness,  as  one 
who  believes  in  the  lingering  of  a  vestige  of  candour. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  my  father  may  wish  to  give  this  woman 
his  name  ?  "  said  Wilfrid,  coolly.  "  You  have  sense  enough 
to  know  that  if  you  make  his  home  disagreeable,  you  are 
taking  the  right  method  to  drive  him  into  such  a  course.  Ha ! 
I  don't  think  it's  to  be  feared,  unless  you  pursue  these  con- 
sultations. And  let  me  say,  for  my  part,  we  have  gone  too 
far  about  Besworth,  and  caa't  recede." 

"Why?" 

"  I  have  given  out  everywhere  that  the  place  is  ours.  I 
did  so  almost  at  your  instigation.  Besworth  was  nothing  to 
me  till  you  cried  it  up.  And  now  I  won't  detain  you.  I 
know  I  can  rely  on  your  sense,  if  you  will  rely  on  it.  Good 
night,  Bella." 

As  she  was  going,  a  faint  tpark  of  courage  revived  Ara- 
bella's wits.  Seeing  that  she  was  now  ready  to  speak,  he 
opened  the  door  wide,  and  she  kissed  him  and  went  forth, 
feeling  driven. 

But  while  Arabella  was  attempting  to  give  a  definite  version 
of  the  interview  to  her  sisters,  a  message  came  requesting 
Adela  to  descend.  The  ladies  did  not  allow  her  to  depart 
until  two  or  three  ingenuous  exclamations  from  her  made 
them  share  her  curiosity. 

"  Ah  ?  "  Wilfrid  caught  her  hand  as  she  came  in.  "  No,  I 
don't  intend  to  let  it  go.  You  may  be  a  fine  lady,  but  you're 
a  rogue,  you  know,  and  a  charming  one,  as  I  hear  a  friend 
of  mine  has  been  saying.  Shall  I  call  him  out  ?  Shall  I 
fight  him  with  pistols,  or  swords,  and  leave  him  bleeding  on 
the  ground,  because  he  thinks  you  a  pretty  rogue  ?  " 

Adela  struggled  against  the  blandishment  of  this  old 
familiar  style  of  converse  —  part  fun,  part  flattery— dis- 
missed since  the  great  idea  had  governed  Brookfield. 

"  Please  tell  me  what  you  called  me  down  for,  dear  ?  " 
:  To  give  you  a  lesson  in  sitting  on  chairs.     l  Adela,  or  the 
Puritan  sister,'  thus:   you  sit  on  the  extremest  edge,  and 
your  eyes  peruse  the  ceiling ;  and  .  .  ." 

"Oh!    will    you   ever  forget  that    perfectly  ridiculous 
Adela  cried  in  anguish. 

She  was  led  by  easy  stages  to  talk  of  Besworth. 
Understand,"  said  Wilfrid,  "that  I  am  indifferent  about 


WILFRID'S  EXHIBITION  OF  TREACHERY       117 

it.  The  idea  sprang  from  you  —  I  mean  from  my  pretty 
sister  Adela,  who  is  President  of  the  Council  of  Three.  I 
hold  that  young  woman  responsible  for  all  that  they  do. 
Am  I  wrong  ?  Oh,  very  well.  You  suggested  Besworth,  at  all 
events.  And  —  if  we  quarrel,  I  shall  cut  off  one  of  your  curls." 

"  We  never  will  quarrel,  my  darling,"  quoth  Adela,  softly. 
"  Unless "  she  added. 

Wilfrid  kissed  her  forehead. 

"  Unless  what  ?  " 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  tell  me  who  it  is  that  talks  of  me 
in  that  objectionable  manner ;  I  do  not  like  it." 

"  Shall  I  convey  that  intimation  ?  " 

"  I  choose  to  ask,  simply  that  I  may  defend  myself." 

"I  choose  to  keep  him  buried,  then,  simply  to  save  his 
life." 

Adela  made  a  mouth,  and  Wilfrid  went  on :  "  By  the  way, 
I  want  you  to  know  Lady  Charlotte ;  you  will  take  to  one 
another.  She  likes  you,  already  —  says  you  want  dash ;  but 
on  that  point  there  may  be  two  opinions." 

"  If  dash,"  said  Adela,  quite  beguiled,  "  —  that  is,  dash ! 
—  what  does  it  mean  ?  But,  if  Lady  Charlotte  means  by 
dash  —  am  I  really  wanting  in  it  ?  I  should  define  it,  the 
quality  of  being  openly  natural  without  vulgarity;  and 
surely  .  .  . ! " 

"  Then  you  two  differ  a  little,  and  must  meet  and  settle 
your  dispute.  You  don't  differ  about  Besworth :  or,  didn't. 
I  never  saw  a  woman  so  much  in  love  with  a  place  as  she  is." 

"  A  place  ?  "  emphasized  Adela. 

"  Don't  be  too  arch.  I  comprehend.  She  won't  take  me 
minus  Besworth,  you  may  be  sure." 

"  Did  you,  Wilfrid !  —  but  you  did  not  —  offer  yourself  as 
owner  of  Besworth  ?  " 

Wilfrid  kept  his  eyes  slanting  on  the  floor. 

"Now  I  see  why  you  should  still  wish  it,"  continued 
Adela.  "  Perhaps  you  don't  know  the  reason  which  makes 
it  impossible,  or  I  would  say  —  Bacchus !  it  must  be  com- 
passed. You  remember  your  old  schoolboy  oath  which  you 
taught  me  ?  We  used  to  swear  always,  by  Bacchus ! " 

Adela  laughed  and  blushed,  like  one  who  petitions  pardon 
for  this  her  utmost  sin,  that  is  not  regretted  as  it  should  be. 

"Mrs.  Chump  again,  isn't  it?"   said  Wilfrid.      "Pole 


EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

would  be  a  preferable  name.  If  she  has  the  ambition,  it 
elevates  her.  And  it  would  be  rather  amusing  to  see  the 
dear  old  boy  in  love." 

Adela  gave  her  under-lip  a  distressful  bite. 

"Why  do  you,  Wilfrid  —  why  treat  such  matters  with 

levity?" 

"  Levity  ?     I  am  the  last  to  treat  ninety  thousand  pounds 

with  levity." 

"  Has  she  so  much  ?  "    Adela  glanced  at  him. 

"  She  will  be  snapped  up  by  some  poor  nobleman.  If  I 
take  her  down  to  the  yacht,  one  of  Lady  Charlotte's  brothers 
or  uncles  will  bite,  to  a  certainty." 

"It  would  be  an  excellent  idea  to  take  her!"  cried 
Adela. 

"  Excellent !  and  I'll  do  it,  if  you  like." 

"  Could  you  bear  the  reflex  of  the  woman  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  that  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  sitting  on 
the  extreme  edge  .  .  .  ?  " 

Adela  started,  breathing  piteously:  "Wilfrid,  dear!  you 
want  something  of  me  —  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Simply  that  you  should  behave  civilly  to  your  father's 
guest." 

"I  had  a  fear,  dear;  but  I  think  too  well  of  you  to  enter- 
tain it  for  a  moment.  If  civility  is  to  win  Besworth  for 
you,  there  is  my  hand." 

"Be  civil  —  that's  all,"  said  Wilfrid,  pressing  the  hand 
given.  "  These  consultations  of  yours  and  acting  in  concert 
—  one  tongue  for  three  women  —  are  a  sort  of  missish,  un- 
ripe nonsense,  that  one  sees  only  in  bourgeoise  girls  —  eh  ? 
Give  it  up.  Lady  Charlotte  hit  on  it  at  a  glance." 

"  And  I,  my  chameleon  brother,  will  return  her  the  com- 
pliment, some  day,"  Adela  said  to  herself,  as  she  hurried 
back  to  her  sisters,  bearing  a  message  for  Cornelia.  This 
lady  required  strong  persuasion.  A  word  from  Adela: 
"  He  will  think  you  have  some  good  reason  to  deny  him  a 
private  interview,"  sent  her  straight  to  the  stairs. 

Wilfrid  was  walking  up  and  down,  with  his  arms  folded 
and  his  brows  bent.  Cornelia  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"  You  desire  to  speak  to  me,  Wilfrid  ?    And  in  private  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  wish  to  congratulate  you  publicly,  that's  all.  I 
know  it's  rather  against  your  taste.  We'll  shut  the  door, 


WILFRID'S  EXHIBITION  OF  TREACHERY       119 

and  sit  down,  if  you  don't  mind.  Yes,  I  congratulate  you 
with  all  my  heart,"  he  said,  placing  a  chair  for  Cornelia. 

"  May  I  ask,  wherefore  ?  " 

"  You  don't  think  marriage  a  matter  for  congratulation  ?  " 

"  Sometimes :  as  the  case  may  be." 

"  Well,  it's  not  marriage  yet.  I  congratulate  you  on  your 
offer." 

"  I  thank  you." 

"  You  accept  it,  of  course." 

"  I  reject  it,  certainly." 

After  this  preliminary  passage,  Wilfrid  remained  silent 
long  enough  for  Cornelia  to  feel  uneasy. 

"  I  want  you  to  congratulate  me  also,"  he  recommenced. 
"  We  poor  fellows  don't  have  offers,  you  know.  To  be  frank, 

I  think  Lady  Charlotte  Chillingworth  will  have  me,  if 

She's  awfully  fond  of  Besworth,  and  I  need  not  tell  you 
that  as  she  has  position  in  the  world,  I  ought  to  show  some- 
thing in  return.  When  you  wrote  about  Besworth,  I  knew 

it  was  as  good  as  decided.  I  told  her  so  and Well,  I 

fancy  there's  that  sort  of  understanding  between  us.  She 
will  have  me  when  .  .  .  You  know  how  the  poorer  mem- 
bers of  the  aristocracy  are  situated.  Her  father's  a  peer, 
and  has  a  little  influence.  He  might  push  me ;  but  she  is 
one  of  a  large  family ;  she  has  nothing.  I  am  certain  you 
will  not  judge  of  her  as  common  people  might.  She  does 
me  a  particular  honour." 

"  Is  she  not  much  older  than  you,  Wilfrid  ?  "  said  Cornelia. 

"  Or,  in  other  words,"  he  added,  "  is  she  not  a  very  mer- 
cenary person  ?  " 

"  That,  I  did  not  even  imply." 

"  Honestly,  was  it  not  in  your  head  ?  " 

"  Now  you  put  it  so  plainly,  I  do  say,  it  strikes  me  dis- 
agreeably ;  I  have  heard  of  nothing  like  it." 

"  Do  you  think  it  unreasonable  that  I  should  marry  into  a 
noble  family  ?  " 

"  That  is,  assuredly,  not  my  meaning." 

"  Nevertheless,  you  are,  on  the  whole,  in  favour  of  beg- 
garly alliances." 

"No,  Wilfrid." 

"  Why  do  you  reject  this  offer  that  has  been  made  to  you  ?  " 

Cornelia  flushed  and  trembled;  the  traitorous  feint  had 


120  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

thrown  her  off  her  guard.     She  said,  faltering :  "  Would  you 
have  me  marry  one  I  do  not  love  ?  " 

"  Well,  well ! "  He  drew  back.  "  You  are  going  to  do 
your  best  to  stop  the  purchase  of  Besworth  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  am  quiescent." 

"  Though  I  tell  you  how  deeply  it  concerns  me  ! " 

"  Wilfrid,  my  own  brother ! "  (Cornelia  flung  herself  be- 
fore him,  catching  his  hand,)  "  I  wish  you  to  be  loved,  first 
of  all.  Think  of  the  horror  of  a  loveless  marriage,  however 
gilded !  Does  a  woman  make  stipulations  ere  she  gives  her 
hand  ?  Does  not  love  seek  to  give,  to  bestow  ?  I  wish  you 
to  marry  well,  but  chiefly  that  you  should  be  loved." 

Wilfrid  pressed  her  head  in  both  his  hands. 

"  I  never  saw  you  look  so  handsome,"  he  said.  "  You've 
got  back  your  old  trick  of  blushing,  too!  Why  do  you 
tremble  ?  By  the  way,  you  seem  to  have  been  learning  a 
great  deal  about  that  business,  lately  ?  " 

"  What  business  ?  " 

"  Love." 

A  river  of  blood  overflowed  her  fair  cheeks. 

"  How  long  has  this  been  ?  "  his  voice  came  to  her. 

There  was  no  escape.  She  was  at  his  knees,  and  must- 
look  up,  or  confess  guilt. 

"This?" 

"  Come,  my  dearest  girl ! "  Wilfrid  soothed  her.  "  I  can 
help  you,  and  will,  if  you'll  take  advice.  I've  always  known 
your  heart  was  generous  and  tender,  under  that  ice  you  wear 
so  well.  How  long  has  this  been  going  on  ?  " 

"Wilfrid!" 

"  You  want  plain  speech  ?  " 

She  wanted  that  still  less. 

"We'll  call  it  'this,'"  he  said.  "I  have  heard  of  it, 
guessed  it,  and  now  see  it.  How  far  have  you  pledged 
yourself  in  <  this  ? ' " 

"  How  far  ?  " 

Wilfrid  held  silent.  Finding  that  her  echo  was  not  ac- 
cepted as  an  answer,  she  moaned  his  name  lovingly.  It 

iched  his  heart,  where  a  great  susceptibility  to  passion 
ay.     As  if  the  ghost  of  Emilia  were  about  him,  he  kissed 
ister's  hand,  and  could  not  go  on  with  his  cruel  inter- 
rogations. 


WILFRID'S  EXHIBITION  OF  TREACHERY        121 

His  next  question  was  dew  of  relief  to  her. 

"  Has  your  Emilia  been  quite  happy,  of  late  ?  " 

"  Oh,  quite,  dear !  very.     And  sings  with  more  fire." 

"She's  cheerful?" 

"  She's  does  not  romp.     Her  eyes  are  full  and  bright." 

"  She's  satisfied  with  everything  here  ?  " 

"  How  could  she  be  otherwise  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  You  weren't  severe  on  her  for  that  escapade 
—  I  mean,  when  she  ran  away  from  Lady  Gosstre's  ?  " 

"We  scarcely  alluded  to  the  subject,  or  permitted  her  to." 

"  Or  permitted  her  to ! "  Wilfrid  echoed,  with  a  grimace. 
"  And  she's  cheerful  now  ?  " 

"  Quite." 

"  I  mean,  she  doesn't  mope  ?  " 

"  Why  should  she  ?  " 

Cornelia  had  been  too  hard-pressed  to  have  suspicion: 
the  questions  were  an  immense  relief. 

Wilfrid  mused  gloomily.  Cornelia  spoke  further  of  Emi- 
lia, and  her  delight  in  the  visits  of  Mr.  Powys,  who  spent 
hours  with  her,  like  a  man  fascinated.  She  flowed  on,  little 
aware  that  she  was  fast  restoring  to  Wilfrid  all  his  judicial 
severity. 

He  said,  at  last:  "I  suppose  there's  no  engagement 
existing  ?  " 

"  Engagement  ?  " 

"  You  have  not,  what  they  call,  plighted  your  troth  to  the 
man  ?  " 

Cornelia  struggled  for  evasion.  She  recognized  the  fruit- 
lessness  of  the  effort,  and  abandoning  it  stood  up. 

"  I  am  engaged  to  no  one." 

"Well,  I  should  hope  not,"  said  Wilfrid.  "An  engage- 
ment might  be  broken." 

"Not  by  me." 

"It  might,  is  all  that  I  say.  A  romantic  sentiment  is 
tougher.  Now,  I  have  been  straightforward  with  you : 
will  you  be  with  me  ?  I  shall  not  hurt  the  man,  or  wound 
his  feelings." 

He  paused ;  but  it  was  to  find  that  no  admission  of  the 
truth,  save  what  oozed  out  in  absence  of  speech,  was  to 
be  expected.  She  seemed,  after  the  fashion  of  women,  to 
have  got  accustomed  to  the  new  atmosphere  into  which 


122  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

he  had  dragged  her,  without  any  conception  of  a  forward 
movement. 

"  I  see  I  must  explain  to  you  how  we  are  situated,"  said 
Wilfrid.  "  We  are  in  a  serious  plight.  You  should  be  civil 
to  this  woman  for  several  reasons  —  for  your  father's  sake 
and  your  own.  She  is  very  rich." 

«  Oh,  Wilfrid ! " 

u  Well,  I  find  money  well  thought  of  everywhere." 

"Has  your  late  school  been  good  for  you?" 

"  This  woman,  I  repeat,  is  rich,  and  we  want  money.  Oh ! 
not  the  ordinary  notion  of  wanting  money,  but  the  more  we 
have  the  more  power  we  have.  Our  position  depends  on  it." 

"  Yes,  if  we  can  be  tempted  to  think  so,"  flashed  Cornelia. 

"Our  position  depends  on  it.  If  you  posture,  and  are 
poor,  you  provoke  ridicule :  and  to  think  of  scorning  money 
is  a  piece  of  folly  no  girls  of  condition  are  guilty  of.  Now, 
you  know  I  am  fond  of  you ;  so  I'll  tell  you  this :  you  have 
a  chance ;  don't  miss  it.  Something  unpleasant  is  threaten- 
ing ;  but  you  may  escape  it.  It  would  be  madness  to  throw 
such  a  chance  away,  and  it  is  your  duty  to  take  advantage 
of  it.  What  is  there  plainer  ?  You  are  engaged  to  no  one." 

Cornelia  came  timidly  close  to  him.    "Pray,  be  explicit ! " 

"Well!  — this  offer." 

•*  Yes;  but  what — there  is  something  to  escape  from." 

Wilfrid  deliberately  replied :  "  There  is  no  doubt  of  the 
Pater's  intentions  with  regard  to  Mrs.  Chump." 

"  He  means  .  .  .  ? " 

"  He  means  to  marry  her." 

"And  you,  Wilfrid?" 

"  Well,  of  course,  he  cuts  me  out.  There — there !  forgive 
me :  but  what  can  I  do  ?  " 

"  Do  you  conspire  —  Wilfrid,  is  it  possible  ?  —  are  you  an 
accomplice  in  the  degradation  of  our  house  ?  " 

Cornelia  had  regained  her  courage,  perforce  of  wrath. 
Wilfrid's  singular  grey  eye  shot  an  odd  look  at  her.  He  is 
to  be  excused  for  not  perceiving  the  grandeur  of  the  struct- 
ure menaced ;  for  it  was  invisible  to  all  the  world,  though 
a  real  fabric. 

"If  Mrs.  Chump  were  poor,  I  should  think  the  Pater 

iemented,"  he  said.  "As  it  is !  well,  as  it  is,  there's 

grwt  to  the  mill,  wind  to  the  organ.  You  must  be  aware  " 


HOW   THE  LADIES   CAME  TO  THEIR   RESOLVE       123 

(and  he  leaned  over  to  her  with  his  most  suspicious  gentle- 
ness of  tone)  —  "  you  are  aware  that  all  organs  must  be  fed ; 
but  you  will  make  a  terrible  mistake  if  you  suppose  for  a 
moment  that  the  human  organ  requires  the  same  sort  of 
feeding  as  the  one  in  Hillford  Church." 

"Good  night,"  said  Cornelia,  closing  her  lips,  as  if  for 
good. 

Wilfrid  pressed  her  hand.  As  she  was  going,  the  springs 
of  kindness  in  his  heart  caused  him  to  say :  "  Forgive  me, 
if  I  seemed  rough." 

"Yes,  dear  Wilfrid;  even  brutality,  rather  than  your 
exultation  over  the  wreck  of  what  was  noble  in  you." 

With  which  phrase  Cornelia  swept  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

HOW  THE  LADIES   OF    BKOOKFIELD   CAME   TO   THEIR  RESOLVE 

"  SEEN  Wilfrid  ?  "  was  Mr.  Pole's  first  cheery  call  to  his 
daughters,  on  his  return.  An  answer  on  that  head  did  not 
seem  to  be  required  by  him,  for  he  went  on :  "  Ah !  the  boy's 
improved.  That  place  over  there,  Stomley,  does  him  as  much 
good  as  the  Army  did,  as  to  setting  him  up,  you  know; 
common  sense,  and  a  ready  way  of  speaking  and  thinking. 
He  sees  a  thing  now.  Well,  Martha,  what  do  you,  —  eh  ? 
what's  your  opinion  ?  " 

Mrs.  Chump  was  addressed.  "  Pole,"  she  said,  fanning 
her  cheek  with  vehement  languor,  "don't  ask  me!  my 
heart's  gone  to  the  young  fella." 

In  pursuance  of  a  determination  to  which  the  ladies  of 
Brookfield  had  come,  Adela,  following  her  sprightly  fancy, 
now  gave  the  lead  in  affability  toward  Mrs.  Chump. 

"  Has  the  conqueror  run  away  with  it  to  bury  it  ? "  she 
laughed. 

"  Och !  won't  he  know  what  it  is  to  be  a  widde ! "  cried 
Mrs.  Chump.  "  A  widde's  heart  takes  aim  and  flies  straight 
as  a  bullet ;  and  the  hearts  o'  you  garls,  they're  like  whiffs 
o'  tobacca,  curlin'  and  wrigglin'  and  not  knowin'  where 


124  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

they're  goin'.  Marry  'em,  Pole !  marry  'em ! "  Mrs.  Chump 
gesticulated,  with  two  dangling  hands.  "  They're  nice  garls ; 
but,  Lord !  they  naver  see  a  man,  and  they're  stuputly  con- 
tented, and  want  to  remain  garls ;  and,  don't  ye  see,  it  was 
naver  meant  to  be  ?  Says  I  to  Mr.  Wilfrud  (and  he  agreed 
with  me),  ye  might  say,  nice  sour  grapes,  as  well  as  nice 
garls,  if  the  creatures  think  o'  stoppin'  where  they  are,  and 
what  they  are.  It's  horrud;  and,  upon  my  honour,  my 
heart  aches  for  'm ! " 

Mr.  Pole  threw  an  uneasy  side-glance  of  inquisition  at  his 
daughters,  to  mark  how  they  bore  this  unaccustomed  lan- 
guage, and  haply  intercede  between  the  unworthy  woman 
and  their  judgement  of  her.  But  the  ladies  merely  smiled. 
Placidly  triumphant  in  its  endurance,  the  smile  said :  "  We 
decline  even  to  feel  such  a  martyrdom  as  this." 

"Well,  you  know,  Martha;  I,"  he  said,  "I — no  father 
could  wish  —  eh  ?  if  you  could  manage  to  persuade  them  not 
to  be  so  fond  of  me.  They  must  think  of  their  future,  of 
course.  They  won't  always  have  a  home  —  a  father,  a 
father,  I  mean.  God  grant  they  may  never  want!  —  eh? 
the  dinner ;  boh !  let's  in  to  dinner.  Ma'am ! " 

He  bowed  an  arm  to  Mrs.  Chump,  who  took  it,  with  a 
scared  look  at  him :  "  Why,  if  ye  haven't  got  a  tear  in  your 
eye,  Pole?" 

"Nonsense,  nonsense,"  quoth  he,  bowing  another  arm  to 
Adela. 

"  Papa,  I'm  not  to  be  winked  at,"  said  she,  accepting  con- 
voy ;  and  there  was  some  laughter,  all  about  nothing,  as  they 
went  in  to  dinner. 

The  ladies  were  studiously  forbearing  in  their  treatment 
of  Mrs.  Chump.  Women  are  wonderfully  quick  scholars 
under  ridicule,  though  it  half-kills  them.  Wilfrid's  theory 
had  impressed  the  superior  grace  of  civility  upon  their 
minds,  and,  now  that  they  practised  it,  they  were  pleased 
with  the  contrast  they  presented.  Not  the  less  were  they 
maturing  a  serious  resolve.  The  suspicion  that  their  father 
had  secret  vile  designs  in  relation  to  Mrs.  Chump,  they  kept 
n  the  background.  It  was  enough  for  them  that  she  was 
>  be  a  visitor,  and  would  thus  destroy  the  great  circle  they 
had  projected.  To  accept  her  in  the  circle,  they  felt,  was 
out  of  the  question.  Wilfrid's  plain-speaking  broke  up  the 


HOW  THE  LADIES   CAME  TO  THEIR   RESOLVE       125 

air-bubble,  which  they  had  so  carefully  blown,  and  in  which 
they  had  embarked  all  their  young  hopes.  They  had  as 
much  as  given  one  another  a  pledge  that  their  home  likewise 
should  be  broken  up. 

"  Are  you  not  almost  too  severe  a  student  ?  "  Mr.  Barrett 
happened  to  say  to  Cornelia,  the  day  after  Wilfrid  had 
worried  her. 

"  Do  I  show  the  signs  ?  "  she  replied. 

"  By  no  means.  But  last  night,  was  it  not  your  light  that 
was  not  extinguished  till  morning  ?  " 

"  We  soon  have  morning  now,"  said  Cornelia ;  and  her 
face  was  pale  as  the  first  hour  of  the  dawn.  "  Are  you  not 
a  late  footf arer,  I  may  ask  in  return  ?  " 

"  Mere  restlessness.  I  have  no  appetite  for  study.  I  took 
the  liberty  to  cross  the  park  from  the  wood,  and  saw  you  — 
at  least  I  guessed  it  your  light,  and  then  I  met  your  brother." 

"  Yes  ?  you  met  him  ?  " 

Mr.  Barrett  gestured  an  affirmative. 

"  And  he  —  did  he  speak  ?  " 

"  He  nodded.     He  was  in  some  haste." 

"  But,  then,  you  did  not  go  to  bed  at  all  that  night  ?  It 
is  almost  my  turn  to  be  lecturer,  if  I  might  expect  to  be 
listened  to." 

"Do  you  not  know  —  or  am  I  constitutionally  different 
from  others  ?  "  Mr.  Barrett  resumed :  "  I  can't  be  alone  in 
feeling  that  there  are  certain  times  and  periods  when  what 
I  would  like  to  call  poisonous  influences  are  abroad,  that 
touch  my  fate  in  the  days  to  come.  I  know  I  am  helpless, 
I  can  only  wander  up  and  down." 

"  That  sounds  like  a  creed  of  fatalism." 

"  It  is  not  a  creed ;  it  is  a  matter  of  nerves.  A  creed  has 
its  '  kismet.'  The  nerves  are  wild  horses." 

"It  is  something  to  be  fought  against,"  said  Cornelia, 
admonishingly. 

"  Is  it  something  to  be  distrusted  ?  " 

"  I  should  say,  yes." 

"  Then  I  was  wrong  ?  " 

He  stooped  eagerly,  in  his  temperate  way,  to  catch  sight 
of  her  answering  face.  Cornelia's  quick  cheeks  took  fire. 
She  fenced  with  a  question  or  two,  and  stood  in  a  tremble, 
marvelling  at  his  intuition.  For  possibly,  at  that  moment 


126  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

when  he  stood  watching  her  window-light  (ah,  poor  heart ! ) 
she  was  half-pledging  her  word  to  her  sisters  (in  a  whirl  of 
wrath  at  Wilfrid,  herself,  and  the  world),  that  she  would  take 
the  lead  in  breaking  up  Brookfield. 

An  event  occurred  that  hurried  them  on.  They  received 
a  visit  from  their  mother's  brother,  John  Pierson,  a  Colonel 
of  Uhlans,  in  the  Imperial-Royal  service.  He  had  rarely 
been  in  communication  with  them ;  his  visit  was  unexpected. 
His  leave  of  absence  f  roiii  his  quarters  in  Italy  was  not  longer 
than  a  month,  and  he  was  on  his  way  to  Ireland,  to  settle 
family  business ;  but  he  called,  as  he  said,  to  make  acquaint- 
ance  with  his  nieces.  The  ladies  soon  discovered,  in  spite 
of  his  foreign-cut  chin  and  pronounced  military  habit  of 
speech  and  bearing,  that  he  was  at  heart  fervidly  British. 
His  age  was  about  fifty :  a  man  of  great  force  of  shoulder 
and  potent  length  of  arm,  courteous  and  well-bred  in  manner, 
he  was  altogether  what  is  called  a  model  of  a  cavalry  officer. 
Colonel  Pierson  paid  very  little  attention  to  his  brother-in- 
law,  but  the  ladies  were  evidently  much  to  his  taste ;  and 
when  he  kissed  Cornelia's  hand,  his  eyes  grew  soft,  as  at  a 
recollection. 

"  You  are  what  your  mother  once  promised  to  be,"  he  said. 
To  her  he  gave  that  mother's  portrait,  taking  it  solemnly  from 
his  breast-pocket,  and  attentively  contemplating  it  before  it 
left  his  hands.  The  ladies  pressed  him  for  a  thousand  details 
of  their  mama's  youthful  life ;  they  found  it  a  strange  con- 
solation to  talk  of  her  and  image  her  like  Cornelia.  The  for- 
eign halo  about  the  colonel  had  an  effect  on  them  that  was 
almost  like  what  nobility  produces;  and  by  degrees  they 
heated  their  minds  to  conceive  that  they  were  consenting 
to  an  outrage  on  that  mother's  memory,  in  countenancing 
Mr».  Chump's  transparent  ambition  to  take  her  place,  as 
they  did  by  staying  in  the  house  with  the  woman.  The 
colonel's  few  expressive  glances  at  Mrs.  Chump,  and  Mrs. 
Cnump's  behaviour  before  the  colonel,  touched  them  with 
intense  distaste  for  their  present  surly  aspect  of  life.  Civil- 
ized little  people  are  moved  to  fulfil  their  destinies  and  to 
write  their  histories  as  much  by  distaste  as  by  appetite.  This 
fresh  sentimental  emotion,  which  led  them  to  glorify  their 

Jther's  image  in  their  hearts,  heightened  and  gave  aa  acid 
edge  to  their  distaste  for  the  thing  they  saw.  Nor  was  it 


HOW   THE   LADIES   CAME  TO  THEIR  RESOLVE       127 

wonderful  that  Cornelia,  said  to  be  so  like  that  mother, 
should  think  herself  bound  to  accept  the  office  of  taking 
the  initiative  in  a  practical  protest  against  the  desecration 
of  the  name  her  mother  had  borne.  At  times,  I  see  that 
sentiment  approaches  too  near  the  Holy  of  earthly  Holies 
for  us  to  laugh  at  it;  it  has  too  much  truth  in  it  to  be 
denounced  —  nay,  if  we  are  not  alert  and  quick  of  wit,  we 
shall  be  deceived  by  it,  and  wonder  in  the  end,  as  the  fool 
does,  why  heaven  struck  that  final  blow;  concluding  that 
it  was  but  another  whimsy  of  the  Gods.  The  ladies  prayed 
to  their  mother.  They  were  indeed  suffering  vile  torture. 
Ethereal  eyes  might  pardon  the  unconscious  jugglery  which 
made  their  hearts  cry  out  to  her  that  the  step  they  were 
about  to  take  was  to  save  her  children  from  seeming  to 
acquiesce  in  a  dishonour  to  her  memory.  Some  such  words 
Adela's  tongue  did  not  shrink  from;  and  as  it  is  a  common 
habit  for  us  to  give  to  the  objects  we  mentally  address  just 
as  much  brain  as  is  wanted  for  the  occasion,  she  is  not  to 
be  held  singular. 

Colonel  Pierson  promised  to  stay  a  week  on  his  return  from 
Ireland.  "  Will  that  person  be  here  ?  "  he  designated  Mrs. 
Chump ;  who,  among  other  things,  had  reproached  him  for 
fighting  with  foreign  steel  and  wearing  any  uniform  but  the  red. 

The  ladies  and  Colonel  Pierson  were  soon  of  one  mind  in 
relation  to  Mrs.  Chump.  Certain  salient  quiet  remarks 
dropped  by  him  were  cherished  after  his  departure;  they 
were  half  willing  to  think  that  he  had  been  directed  to  come 
to  them,  bearer  of  a  message  from  the  heavenly  world  to 
urge  them  to  action.  They  had  need  of  a  spiritual  exalta- 
tion, to  relieve  them  from  the  palpable  depression  caused  by 
the  weight  of  Mrs.  Chump.  They  encouraged  one  another 
with  exclamations  on  the  oddness  of  a  visit  from  their 
mother's  brother,  at  such  a  time  of  tribulation,  indecision, 
and  general  darkness. 

Mrs.  Chump  remained  on  the  field.  When  Adela  begged 
her  papa  to  tell  her  how  long  the  lady  was  to  stay,  he  re- 
plied :  "  Eh  ?  By  the  way,  I  haven't  asked  her ; "  and 
retreated  from  this  almost  too  obvious  piece  of  simplicity, 
with,  "  I  want  you  to  know  her :  I  want  you  to  like  her  — 
want  you  to  get  to  understand  her.  Won't  talk  about  he* 
going  just  yet." 


128  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

If  they  could  have  seen  a  limit  to  that  wholesale  slaughter 
of  the  Nice  Feelings,  they  might  have  summoned  patience  to 
avoid  the  desperate  step  to  immediate  relief :  but  they  saw- 
none.  Their  father's  quaint  kindness  and  Wilfrid's  treachery 
had  fixed  her  there,  perhaps  for  good.  The  choice  was,  to 
let  London  come  and  see  them  dragged  through  the  mire  by 
the  monstrous  woman,  or  to  seek  new  homes.  London,  they 
contended,  could  not  further  be  put  off,  and  would  come, 
especially  now  that  the  season  was  dying.  After  all,  their 
parting  from  one  another  was  the  bitterest  thing  to  bear,  and 
as  each  seemed  content  to  endure  it  for  the  good  of  all,  and 
as,  properly  considered,  they  did  not  bury  their  ambition  by 
separating,  they  said  farewell  to  the  young  delicious  dawn 
of  it.  By  means  of  Fine  Shades  it  was  understood  that 
Brookfield  was  to  be  abandoned.  Not  one  direct  word  was 
uttered.  There  were  expressions  of  regret  that  the  village 
children  of  Ipley  would  miss  the  supervizing  eyes  that  had 
watched  over  them  —  perchance!  at  any  rate,  would  lose 
them.  All  went  on  in  the  household  as  before,  and  would 
have  continued  so,  but  that  they  had  a  chief  among  them. 
This  was  Adela  Pole,  who  found  her  powers  with  the  occasion. 

Adela  thought  decisively:  "People  never  move  unless 
they  are  pushed."  And  when  you  have  got  them  to  move 
ever  so  little,  then  propel ;  but  by  no  means  expect  that  a 
movement  on  their  part  means  progression.  Without  pro- 
pulsion nothing  results.  Adela  saw  what  Cornelia  meant 
to  do.  It  was  not  to  fly  to  Sir  Twickenham,  but  to  dismiss 
Mr.  Barrett.  Arabella  consented  to  write  to  Edward  Bux- 
ley,  but  would  not  speak  of  old  days,  and  barely  alluded  to  a 
misunderstanding;  though  if  she  loved  one  man,  this  was  he. 
Adela  was  disengaged.  She  had  moreover  to  do  penance, 
for  a  wrong  committed;  and  just  as  children  will  pinch  them- 
selves, pleased  up  to  the  verge  of  unendurable  pain,  so  do 
sentimentalists  find  a  keen  relish  in  performing  secret  pen- 
ance for  self -accused  offences.  Thus  they  become  righteous 
to  their  own  hearts,  and  evade,  as  they  hope,  the  public 
scourge.  The  wrong  committed  was  (translated  out  of  Fine 
Shades),  that  she  had  made  love  to  her  sister's  lover.  In 
the  original  tongue  — she  had  innocently  played  with  the 
cred  fire  of  a  strange  affection;  a  child  in  the  temple!  — 

ir  penitent  child  took  a  keen  pinching  pleasure  in  dictat- 
ing words  for  Arabella  to  employ  toward  Edward. 


HOW  THE  LADIES   CAME  TO   THEIR   EESOLVE       129 

And  then,  recurring  to  her  interview  with  Wilfrid,  it; 
struck  her:  "Suppose  that,  after  all,  Money!  ..."  Yes, 
Mammon  has  acted  Hymen  before  now.  Nothing  else  ex 
plained  Mrs.  Chump;  so  she  thought,  in  one  clear  glimpse 
Inveterate  sentimental  habit  smeared  the  picture  with  two 
exclamations  —  "  Impossible !  "  and  "  Papa!  "  I  desire  it  to 
be  credited  that  these  simple  interjections  absolutely  ob- 
scured her  judgement.  Little  people  think  either  what 
they  are  made  to  think,  or  what  they  choose  to  think;  and 
the  education  of  girls  is  to  make  them  believe  that  facts 
are  their  enemies  —  a  naughty  spying  race,  upon  whom  the 
dogs  of  Pudeur  are  to  be  loosed,  if  they  surprise  them  with- 
out note  of  warning.  Adela  silenced  her  suspicion  easily 
enough ;  but  this  did  not  prevent  her  taking  a  measure  to 
satisfy  it.  Petting  her  papa  one  evening,  she  suddenly 
asked  him  for  ninety  pounds. 

"Ninety ! "  said  Mr.  Pole,  taking  a  sharp  breath.  He  was 
as  composed  as  possible. 

"  Is  that  too  much,  papa,  darling  ?"  • 

"Not  if  you  want  it  —  not  if  you  want  it,  of  course  not." 

"  You  seemed  astonished." 

"  The  sum !  it's  an  odd  sum  for  a  girl  to  want.  Ten, 
twenty,  fifty  —  a  hundred;  but  you  never  hear  of  ninety, 
never !  unless  it's  to  pay  a  debt ;  and  I  have  all  the  bills,  or 
your  aunt  has  them." 

"  Well,  papa,  if  it  excites  you,  I  will  do  without  it.  It  is 
for  a  charity,  chiefly." 

Mr.  Pole  fumbled  in  his  pocket,  muttering,  "No  money 
here  —  cheque-book  in  town.  I'll  give  it  you,"  he  said  aloud, 
"  to-morrow  morning  —  morrow  morning,  early." 

"  That  will  do,  papa ; "  and  Adela  relieved  him  immedi- 
ately by  shooting  far  away  from  the  topic. 

The  ladies  retired  early  to  their  hall  of  council  in  the  bed- 
chamber of  Arabella,  and  some  time  after  midnight  Cornelia 
went  to  her  room ;  but  she  could  not  sleep.  She  affected,  in 
her  restlessness,  to  think  that  her  spirits  required  an  intel- 
lectual sedative,  so  she  went  down  to  the  library  for  a  book ; 
where  she  skimmed  many  —  a  fashion  that  may  be  recom- 
mended, for  assisting  us  to  a  sense  of  sovereign  superiority 
to  authors,  and  also  of  serene  contempt  for  all  mental  diffi- 
culties. Fortified  in  this  way,  Cornelia  took  a  Plutarch  and 


130  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

an  Encyclopaedia  under  her  arm,  to  return  to  her  room.  But 
one  volume  fell,  and  as  she  stooped  to  recover  it,  her  candle 
shared  its  fate.  She  had  to  find  her  way  back  in  the  dark. 
On  the  landing  of  the  stairs,  she  fancied  that  she  heard  a 
step  and  a  breath.  The  lady  was  of  unshaken  nerves.  She 
moved  on  steadily,  her  hand  stretched  out  a  little  before 
her.  What  it  touched  was  long  in  travelling  to  her  brain ; 
but  when  her  paralyzed  heart  beat  again,  she  knew  that  her 
hand  clasped  another  hand.  Her  nervous  horror  calmed  as 
the  feeling  came  to  her  of  the  palpable  weakness  of  the 
hand. 

«  Who  are  you  ?  "  she  asked.  Some  hoarse  answer  struck 
her  ear.  She  asked  again,  making  her  voice  distincter.  The 
hand  now  returned  her  pressure  with  force.  She  could  feel 
that  the  person,  whoever  it  was,  stood  collecting  strength  to 
speak.  Then  the  words  came  — 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  imitating  that  woman's  brogue  ?  " 

"  Papa ! "  said  Cornelia. 

"  Why  do  you  talk  Irish  in  the  dark  ?  There,  good  night. 
I've  just  come  up  from  the  library ;  my  candle  dropped.  I 
shouldn't  have  been  frightened,  but  you  talked  with  such  a 
twang." 

"But  I  have  just  come  from  the  library  myself,"  said 
Cornelia. 

"  I  mean  from  the  dining-room,"  her  father  corrected  him- 
self hastily.    "  I  can't  sit  in  the  library ;  shall  have  it  altered - 
-  full  of  draughts.     Don't  you  think  so,  my  dear  ?     Good 
night.     What's  this  in  your  arm  ?     Books !     Ah,  you  study ! 
I  can  get  a  light  for  myself." 

The  dialogue  was  sustained  in  the  hard-whispered  tones 
prescribed  by  darkness.  Cornelia  kissed  her  father's  fore- 
head, and  they  parted. 

At  breakfast  in  the  morning  it  was  the  habit  of  all  the 
ladies  to  assemble,  partly  to  countenance  the  decency  of 
matin-prayers,  and  also  to  give  the  head  of  the  household 
their  dutiful  society  till  business  called  him  away.  Adela, 
in  earlier  days,  had  maintained  that  early  rising  was  not 
fashionable;  but  she  soon  grasped  the  idea  that  a  great 
rivalry  with  Fashion,  in  minor  matters  (where  the  support 

the  satirist  might  be  counted  on),  was  the  proper  policy 
•roakfield.     Mrs.  Chump  was  given  to  be  extremely 


HOW   THE  LADIES   CAME  TO  THEIR  KESOLVE       131 

fashionable  in  her  hours,  and  began  her  Brookfield  career 
by  coming  downstairs  at  ten  and  eleven  o'clock,  when  she 
found  a  desolate  table,  well  stocked  indeed,  but  without  any 
of  the  exuberant  smiles  of  nourishment  which  a  morning 
repast  should  wear. 

"  You  are  a  Protestant,  ma'am,  are  you  not  ?  "  Adela  mildly 
questioned,  after  informing  her  that  she  missed  family  prayer 
by  her  late  descent.  Mrs.  Chump  assured  her  that  she  was  a 
firm  Protestant,  and  liked  to  see  faces  at  the  breakfast-table. 
The  poor  woman  was  reduced  to  submit  to  the  rigour  of  the 
hour,  coming  down  flustered,  and  endeavouring  to  look  devout, 
while  many  uncertainties  as  to  the  condition  of  the  hooks  of 
her  attire  distracted  her  mind  and  fingers.  On  one  occa- 
sion, Gainsford,  the  footman,  had  been  seen  with  his  eye  on 
her ;  and  while  Mr.  Pole  read  of  sacred  things,  at  a  pace 
composed  of  slow  march  and  amble,  this  unhappy  man  was 
heard  struggling  to  keep  under  and  extinguish  a  devil  of 
laughter,  by  which  his  human  weakness  was  shaken.  He 
retired  from  the  room  with  the  speed  of  a  voyager  about  to 
pay  tribute  on  high  seas.  Mr.  Pole  cast  a  pregnant  look  at 
the  servants'  row  as  he  closed  the  book ;  but  the  expression 
of  his  daughters'  faces  positively  signified  that  no  remark 
was  to  be  made,  and  he  contained  himself.  Later,  the  ladies 
told  him  that  Gainsford  had  done  no  worse  than  any  unedu- 
cated man  would  have  been  guilty  of  doing.  Mrs.  Chump 
had,  it  appeared,  a  mother's  feeling  for  one  flat  curl  on  her 
rugged  forehead,  which  was  often  fondly  caressed  by  her,  for 
the  sake  of  ascertaining  its  fixity.  Doubts  of  the  precision 
of  outline  and  general  welfare  of  this  curl,  apparently, 
caused  her  to  straighten  her  back  and  furtively  raise  her 
head,  with  an  easy  upward  motion,  as  of  a  cork  alighted  in 
water,  above  the  level  of  the  looking-glass  on  her  left  hand 
—  an  action  she  repeated,  with  a  solemn  aspect,  four  times ; 
at  which  point  Gainsford  gave  way.  The  ladies  accorded 
him  every  extenuation  for  the  offence.  They  themselves, 
but  for  the  heroism  of  exalted  natures,  must  have  succumbed 
to  the  gross  temptation.  "  It  is  difficult,  dear  papa,  to  bring 
one's  mind  to  religious  thoughts  in  her  company,  even  when 
she  is  quiescent,"  they  said.  Thus,  by  the  prettiest  exer- 
cise of  charity  that  can  be  conceived,  they  pleaded  for 
the  man  Gainsford,  while  they  struck  a  blow  at  Mrs.  Chump; 


132  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

and  in  performing  one  of  the  virtues  laid  down  by  religion, 
proved  their  enemy  to  be  hostile  to  its  influences. 

Mrs.  Chump  was  this  morning  very  late.  The  office  of 
morning  reader  was  new  to  Mr.  Pole,  who  had  undertaken 
it,  when  first  Squire  of  Brookfield,  at  the  dictate  of  the 
ladies  his  daughters ;  so  that,  waiting  with  the  book  before 
him  and  his  audience  expectant,  he  lacked  composure,  spoke 
irritably  in  an  under-breath  of  "that  woman,"  and  asked 
twice  whether  she  was  coming  or  not.  At  last  the  clump  of 
her  feet  was  heard  approaching.  Mr.  Pole  commenced  read- 
ing the  instant  she  opened  the  door.  She  stood  there,  with 
a  face  like  a  petrified  Irish  outcry.  An  imploring  sound  of 
"  Pole !  Pole  ! "  issued  from  her.  Then  she  caught  up  one 
hand  to  her  mouth,  and  rolled  her  head,  in  evident  anguish 
at  the  necessitated  silence.  A  convulsion  passed  along  the 
row  of  maids,  two  of  whom  dipped  to  their  aprons  ;  but  the 
ladies  gazed  with  a  sad  consciousness  of  wicked  glee  at 
the  disgust  she  was  exciting  in  the  bosom  of  their  father. 

"  Will  you  shut  the  door  ?  "  Mr.  Pole  sternly  addressed 
Mrs.  Chump,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  first  prayer. 

"Pole!  ye  know  that  money  ye  gave  me  in  notes?  I 
must  speak,  Pole ! " 

"  Shut  the  door." 

Mrs.  Chump  let  go  the  door-handle  with  a  moan.  The 
door  was  closed  by  Gainsford,  now  one  of  the  gravest  of 
footmen.  A  chair  was  placed  for  her,  and  she  sat  down, 
desperately  watching  the  reader  for  the  fall  of  his  voice. 
The  period  was  singularly  protracted.  The  ladies  turned  to 
one  another,  to  question  with  an  eyelid  why  it  was  that 
extra  allowance  was  given  that  morning.  Mr.  Pole  was  in  a 
third  prayer,  stumbling  on  and  picking  himself  up,  appar- 
ently unaware  that  he  had  passed  the  limit.  This  continued 
the  series  of  ejaculations  which  accompanied  him 
JM»d  hotter  — little  muffled  shrieks  of:  "Oh!  — Deer!  — 
Oh,  Lard !  —  When  will  he  stop  ?  —  Oh,  mercy !  Och !  And 
me  burrstin'  to  speak !  —  Oh !  what'll  I  do  ?  I  can't  keep't 
•  Pole !  ye're  kill'n  me  —  Oh,  deer !  I'll  be  sayin'  some- 
thin  to  vex  the  prophets  presently.  Pole  !  " 

f  it  was  a  race  that  he  ran  with  Mrs.  Chump,  Mr.  Pole 
was  beaten.  He  came  to  a  sudden  stop. 

Mrs.  Chump  had  become  too  deeply  absorbed  in  her  im- 


HOW  THE  LADIES   CAME  TO  THEIR   RESOLVE       133 

patience  to  notice  the  change  in  his  tone ;  and  when  he  said, 
"  Now  then,  to  breakfast,  quick ! "  she  was  pursuing  her 
lamentable  interjections.  At  sight  of  the  servants  trooping 
forth,  she  jumped  up  and  ran  to  the  door. 

"  Ye  don't  go.  —  Pole,  they're  all  here.  And  I've  been 
robbed,  I  have.  A  very  note  I  had  from  ye,  Pole,  all  gone. 
And  my  purse  left  behind,  like  the  skin  of  a  thing.  Lord 
forbid  I  accuse  annybody;  but  when  I  get  up,  my  first 
rush  is  to  feel  in  my  pocket.  And,  ask  'em !  —  If  ye  didn't 
keep  me  so  poor,  Pole,  they'd  know  I'm  a  generous  woman, 
but  I  cann't  bear  to  be  robbed.  And  pinmoney's  for 
spendin' ;  annybody'll  tell  you  that.  And  I  ask  ye  t'  ex- 
amine 'em,  Pole ;  for  last  night  I  counted  my  notes,  wantin' 
change,  and  I  thought  of  a  salmon  I  bought  on  the  banks  of 
the  Suir  to  make  a  present  to  Chump,  which  was  our  onnly 
visit  to  Waterford  together :  for  he  naver  went  t'  Ireland 
before  or  after —  dyin'  as  he  did !  and  it's  not  his  ingrat'tude, 
with  his  talk  of  a  Severrn  salmon — to  the  deuce  with  'm ! 
that  makes  me  soft  —  poor  fella!  —  I  didn't  mean  to  the 
deuce; — but  since  he's  gone,  his  widde's  just  unfit  to 
bargain  for  a  salmon  at  all,  and  averybody  robs  her,  and 
she's  kept  poor,  and  hatud !  —  D'ye  heer,  Pole  ?  I've  lost 
my  money,  my  money !  and  I  will  speak,  and  ye  shann't 
interrupt  me!" 

During  the  delivery  of  this  charge  against  the  household, 
Mr.  Pole  had  several  times  waved  to  the  servants  to  begone ; 
but  as  they  had  always  the  option  to  misunderstand  authori- 
tative gestures,  they  preferred  remaining,  and  possibly  he 
perceived  that  they  might  claim  to  do  so  under  accusa- 
tion. 

"  How  can  you  bring  this  charge  against  the  inmates  of 
my  house  —  eh  ?  I  guarantee  the  honesty  of  all  who  serve 
me.  Martha !  you  must  be  mad,  mad !  —  Money  ?  why,  you 
never  have  money ;  you  waste  it  if  you  do." 

"  Not  money,  Pole  ?  Oh !  and  why  ?  Becas  ye  keep  me 
low  o'  purpose,  till  I  cringe  like  a  slut  o*  the  scullery,  and 
cry  out  for  halfpence.  But,  oh !  that  seventy-five  pounds 
in  notes ! " 

Mr.  Pole  shook  his  head,  as  one  who  deals  with  a  gross 
delusion :  "  I  remember  nothing  about  it." 

"  Not  about ?  "    Mrs.  Chump  dropped  her  chin.    "  Ye 


134  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

don't  remember  the  givin'  of  me  just  that  sum  of  seventy- 
five,  in  eight  notes,  Pole  ?  " 

"  Eh  ?  I  dare  say  I  have  given  you  the  amount,  one  time 
or  other.  Now,  let's  be  quiet  about  it." 

"  Yesterday  mornin',  Pole !  And  the  night  I  go  to  bed  I 
count  my  money,  and,  says  I,  I'll  not  lock  ut  up,  for  I'll  onnly 
be  unlockin'  again  to-morrow ;  and  doin'  a  thing  and  undoin' 
ut's  sign  of  a  brain  that's  addled — like  yours,  Pole,  if  ye 
say  ye  didn't  go  to  give  me  the  notes." 

Mr.  Pole  frowned  at  her  sagaciously.  "  Must  change  your 
diet,  Martha ! " 

"  My  dite  ?    And  what's  my  dite  to  do  with  my  money  ?  " 

"Who  went  into  Mrs.  Chump's  bedchamber  this  morn- 
ing ?  "  asked  Mr.  Pole,  generally. 

A  pretty  little  housemaid  replied,  with  an  indignant  flush, 
that  she  was  the  person.  Mrs.  Chump  acknowledged  to  being 
awake  when  the  shutters  were  opened,  and  agreed  that  it 
was  not  possible  her  pockets  could  have  been  rifled  then. 

"So,  you  see,  Martha,  you're  talking  nonsense,"  said 
Mr.  Pole.  "  Do  you  know  the  numbers  of  those  notes  ?  " 

"  The  numbers  at  the  sides,  ye  mean,  Pole  ?  " 

"  Ay,  the  numbers  at  the  sides,  if  you  like ;  the  21593,  and 
BO  on  ?  " 

"The  21593!  Oh!  I  can't  remember  such  a  lot  as  that, 
if  ever  I  leave  off  repeatin'  it." 

"  There !  you  see,  you're  not  fit  to  have  money  in  your 
possession,  Martha.  Everybody  who  has  bank-notes  looks 
at  the  numbers.  You  have  a  trick  of  fancying  all  sorts  of 
sums  in  your  pocket ;  and  when  you  don't  find  them  there, 
of  course  they're  lost  I  Now,  let's  have  some  breakfast." 

Arabella  told  the  maids  to  go  out.  Mr.  Pole  turned  to 
the  breakfast-table,  rubbing  his  hands.  Seeing  herself  and 
her  case  abandoned,  Mrs.  Chump  gave  a  deplorable  shout. 
"  Ye're  crool !  and  young  women  that  look  on  at  a  fellow- 
woman's  mis'ry.  Oh !  how  can  ye  do  ut  1  But  soft  hearts 
can  be  the  hardest.  And  all  my  seventy-five  gone,  gone ! 
and  no  law  out  of  annybody.  And  no  frightenin'  of  'em  off 
from  doin'  the  like  another  time !  Oh,  I  will,  I  will  have 
my  money ! " 

"Tush!  Come  to  breakfast,  Martha,"  said  Mr.  Pole. 
11  xou  shall  have  money,  if  you  want  it;  you  have  only  to 


HOW   THE   LADIES   CAME  TO   THEIR  RESOLVE       135 

ask.  Now,  will  you  promise  to  be  quiet  ?  and  I'll  give  you 
this  money  —  the  amount  you've  been  dreaming  about  last 
night.  I'll  fetch  it.  Now,  let  us  have  no  scenes.  Dry 
your  eyes." 

Mr.  Pole  went  to  his  private  room,  and  returned  just  as 
Mrs.  Chump  had  got  upon  a  succession  of  quieter  sobs,  with 
each  one  of  which  she  addressed  a  pathetic  roll  of  her  eyes 
to  the  utterly  unsympathetic  ladies  respectively. 

"There,  Martha;  there's  exactly  the  sum  for  you  —  free 
gift.  Say  thank  you,  and  eat  a  good  breakfast  to  show  your 
gratitude.  Mind,  you  take  this  money  on  condition  that 
you  let  the  servants  know  you  made  a  mistake." 

Mrs.  Chump  sighed  heavily,  crumpling  the  notes,  that  the 
crisp  sweet  sound  might  solace  her  for  the  hard  condition. 

"  And  don't  dream  any  more  —  not  about  money,  I  mean," 
said  Mr.  Pole. 

"  Oh !  if  I  dream  like  that  I'll  be  living  double."  Mrs. 
Chump  put  her  hand  to  the  notes,  and  called  him  kind,  and 
pitied  him  for  being  the  loser.  The  sight  of  a  fresh  sum  in 
her  possession  intoxicated  her.  It  was  but  feebly  that  she 
regretted  the  loss  to  her  Samuel  Bolton  Pole.  "Your 
memory's  worth  more  than  that ! "  she  said  as  she  filled  her 
purse  with  the  notes.  "Anyhow,  now  I  can  treat  some- 
body," and  she  threw  a  wink  of  promise  at  Adela.  Adela's 
eyes  took  refuge  with  her  papa,  who  leaned  over  to  her,  and 
said:  "You  won't  mind  waiting  till  you  see  me  again? 
She's  taken  all  I  had."  Adela  nodded  blankly,  and  the 
next  moment,  with  an  angry  glance  toward  Mrs.  Chump, 
"Papa,"  said  she,  "if  you  wish  to  see  servants  in  the  house 
on  your  return,  you  must  yourself  speak  to  them,  and  tell 
them  that  we,  their  master  and  mistresses,  do  not  regard 
them  as  thieves."  Out  of  this  there  came  a  quarrel  as 
furious  as  the  ladies  would  permit  it  to  be.  For  Mrs. 
Chump,  though  willing  to  condone  the  offence  for  the  sum 
she  had  received,  stuck  infamy  upon  the  whole  list  of  them. 
"The  Celtic  nature,"  murmured  Cornelia.  And  the  ladies 
maintained  that  their  servants  should  be  respected,  at  any 
cost.  "You,  ma'am,"  said  Arabella,  with  a  clear  look 
peculiar  to  her  when  vindictive  —  "you  may  have  a  stain  on 
your  character,  and  you  are  not  ruined  by  it.  But  these 
poor  creatures  ..." 


136  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"Ye  dare  to  com  par'  me ! " 

"  Contrast  you,  ma'am." 

"  It's  just  as  imp'dent." 

"I  say,  our  servants,  ma'am  ..." 

"Oh!  to  the  deuce  with  your  'ma'am; '  I  hate  the  word. 
It's  like  fittin'  a  cap  on  me.  Ye  want  to  make  one  a  tur- 
baned  dow'ger,  ye  malicious  young  woman!  " 

"Those  are  personages  that  are,  I  believe,  accepted  in 
society ! " 

So  the  contest  raged,  Mrs.  Chump  being  run  clean  through 
the  soul  twenty  times,  without  touching  the  consciousness 
of  that  sensitive  essence.  Mr.  Pole  appeared  to  take  the 
part  of  his  daughters,  and  by-and-by  Mrs.  Chump,  having 
failed  to  arouse  Mrs.  Lupin's  involuntary  laugh  (which 
always  consoled  her  in  such  cases),  huffed  out  of  the  room. 
Then  Mr.  Pole,  in  an  abruptly  serious  way,  bashfully  en- 
treated the  ladies  to  be  civil  to  Martha,  who  had  the  best 
heart  in  the  world.  It  sounded  as  if  he  were  going  to  say 
more.  After  a  pause,  he  added,  emphatically,  "Do!  "  and 
went.  He  was  many  days  absent:  nor  did  he  speak  to 
Adela  of  the  money  she  had  asked  for  when  he  returned. 
Adela  had  not  the  courage  to  allude  to  it. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN   THE    WOODS 


EMILIA  sat  in  her  old  place  under  the  dwarf  pine.  Mr. 
Powys  had  brought  her  back  to  Brookfield,  where  she  heard 
that  Wilfrid  had  been  seen ;  and  now  her  heart  was  in  con- 
test with  an  inexplicable  puzzle :  "  He  was  here,  and  did 
not  come  to  me! :  Since  that  night  when  they  had  walked 
home  from  Ipley  Green,  she  had  not  suffered  a  moment  of 
longing.  Her  senses  had  lain  as  under  a  charm,  with  heart 
chor  and  a  mind  free  to  work.  No  one  could  have 

eased  that  any  human  spell  was  on  the  girl.  "Wherever 
ue  is,  he  thinks  of  me.  I  find  him  everywhere.  He  is 
safe,  for  I  pray  for  him  and  have  my  arms  about  him.  He 


lis   THE  WOODS  137 

will  come."  So  she  waited,  as  some  grey  lake  lies,  full  and 
smooth,  awaiting  the  star  below  the  twilight.  If  she  let 
her  thoughts  run  on  to  the  hour  of  their  meeting,  she  had 
to  shut  her  eyes  and  press  at  her  heart;  but  as  yet  she 
was  not  out  of  tune  for  daily  life,  and  she  could  imagine 
how  that  hour  was  to  be  strewn  with  new  songs  and  hushed 
surprises.  And  'thus'  he  would  look:  and 'thus.'  "My 
hero !  "  breathed  Emilia,  shuddering  a  little.  But  now  she 
was  perplexed.  Now  that  he  had  come  and  gone,  she  began' 
to  hunger  bitterly  for  the  sight  of  his  face,  and  that  which/ 
had  hitherto  nourished  her  grew  a  sickly  phantom  of 
delight.  She  wondered  how  she  had  forced  herself  to  be 
patient,  and  what  it  was  that  she  had  found  pleasure  in. 

None  of  the  ladies  were  at  home  when  Emilia  returned. 
She  went  out  to  the  woods,  and  sat,  shadowed  by  the  long 
bent  branch;  watching  mechanically  the  slow  rounding  and 
yellowing  of  the  beam  of  sunlight  over  the  thick  floor  of 
moss,  up  against  the  fir-stems.  The  chaffinch  and  the  lin- 
net flitted  off  the  grey  orchard  twigs,  singing  from  new 
stations ;  and  the  bee  seemed  to  come  questioning  the  silence 
of  the  woods  and  droning  disappointed  away.  The  first 
excess  of  any  sad  feeling  is  half  voluntary.  Emilia  could 
not  help  smiling,  when  she  lifted  her  head  out  of  a  musing 
fit,  to  find  that  she  had  composed  part  of  a  minuet  for  the 
languid  dancing  motes  in  the  shaft  of  golden  light  at  her 
feet.  "  Can  I  remember  it?  "  she  thought,  and  forgot  the 
incident  with  the  effort. 

Down  at  her  right  hand,  bordering  a  water,  stood  a  sallow, 
a  dead  tree,  channelled  inside  with  the  brown  trail  of  a 
goat-moth.  Looking  in  this  direction,  she  saw  Cornelia 
advancing  to  the  tree.  When  the  lady  had  reached  it,  she 
drew  a  little  book  from  her  bosom,  kissed  it,  and  dropped 
it  in  the  hollow.  This  done,  she  passed  among  the  firs. 
Emilia  had  perceived  that  she  was  agitated :  and  with  that 
strange  instinct  of  hearts  beginning  to  stir,  which  makes 
them  divine  at  once  where  they  will  come  upon  the  secret 
of  their  own  sensations,  she  ran  down  to  the  tree  and  peered 
on  tiptoe  at  the  embedded  volume.  On  a  blank  page  stood 
pencilled :  "  This  is  the  last  fruit  of  the  tree.  Come  not  to 
gather  more."  There  was  no  meaning  for  her  in  that  senti- 
mental chord:  but  she  must  have  got  some  glimpse  of  a 


138  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

meaning;  for  now,  as  in  an  agony,  her  lips  fashioned  the 
words :  "  If  I  forget  his  face  I  may  as  well  die ; "  and  she 
wandered  on,  striving  more  and  more  vainly  to  call  u^  his 
features.  The  —  'Does  he  think  of  me?'  and  —  'TV 'hat 
am  I  to  him? '  — such  timorous  little  feather-play  of  femi- 
nine emotion  she  knew  nothing  of:  in  her  heart  was  the 
strong  flood  of  a  passion. 

She  met  Edward  Buxley  and  Freshfield  Sumner  at  a  cross- 
path,  on  their  way  to  Brookfield;  and  then  Adela  joined 
the  party,  which  soon  embraced  Mr.  Barrett,  and  subse- 
quently Cornelia.  All  moved  on  in  a  humming  leisure, 
chattering  by  fits.  Mr.  Sumner  was  delicately  prepared  to 
encounter  Mrs.  Chump,  "whom,"  said  Adela,  "Edward 
himself  finds  it  impossible  to  caricature ;  "  and  she  affected 
to  laugh  at  the  woman. 

"  Happy  the  pencil  that  can  reproduce ! "  Mr.  Barrett  ex- 
claimed; and,  meeting  his  smile,  Cornelia  said:  "Do  you 
know,  my  feeling  is,  and  I  cannot  at  all  account  for  it,  that 
if  she  were  a  Catholic  she  would  not  seem  so  gross?" 

"  Some  of  the  poetry  of  that  religion  would  descend  upon 
her,  possibly,"  returned  Mr.  Barrett. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  Freshfield  said  quickly,  "that  she  would 
stand  a  fair  chance  of  being  sainted?  " 

Out  of  this  arose  some  polite  fencing  between  the  two. 
Freshfield  might  have  argued  to  advantage  in  a  Court  of 
law;  but  he  was  no  match,  on  such  topics  and  before  such 
an  audience,  for  a  refined  sentimentalist.  More  than  once 
he  betrayed  a  disposition  to  take  refuge  in  his  class  (he 
being  son  to  one  of  the  puisne  Judges).  Cornelia  speedily 
punished  him,  and  to  any  correction  from  her  he  bowed  his 
head. 

Adela  was  this  day  gifted  with  an  extraordinary  insight. 
Emilia  alone  of  the  party  was  as  a  blot  to  her;  but  the 
others  she  saw  through,  as  if  they  had  been  walking  trans- 
parencies. She  divined  that  Edward  and  Freshfield  had 
both  come,  in  concert,  upon  amorous  business  — that  it  was 
Freshfield's  object  to  help  Edward  to  a  private  interview 
with  her,  and,  in  return,  Edward  was  to  perform  the  same 
service  for  him  with  Cornelia.  So  that  Mr.  Barrett  was 
shockingly  in  the  way  of  both;  and  the  perplexity  of  these 
stupid  fellows  —  who  would  insist  upon  wondering  why  the 


IN  THE  WOODS  139 

man  Barrett  and  the  girl  Emilia  (musicians  both :  both,  as 
it  were,  vagrants)  did  not  walk  together  and  talk  of  qua- 
vers and  minims  —  was  extremely  comic.  Passing  the 
withered  tree,  Mr.  Barrett  deserved  thanks  from  Freshfield, 
if  he  did  not  obtain  them;  for  he  lingered,  surrendering 
his  place.  And  then  Adela  knew  that  the  weight  of  Ed- 
ward Buxley's  remonstrative  wrath  had  fallen  on  silent 
Emilia,  to  whom  she  clung  fondly. 

"I  have  had  a  letter,"  Edward  murmured,  in  the  voice 
that  propitiates  secresy. 

"A  letter?"  she  cried  aloud;  and  off  flew  the  man  like  a 
rabbit  into  his  hole,  the  mask  of  him  remaining. 

Emilia  presently  found  Mr.  Barrett  at  her  elbow.  His 
hand  clasped  the  book  Cornelia  had  placed  in  the  tree. 

"It  is  hers,"  said  Emilia. 

He  opened  it  and  pointed  to  his  initials.  She  looked  in 
his  face. 

"Are  you  very  ill?" 

Adela  turned  round  from  Edward's  neighbouring  head. 
"Who  is  ill?" 

Cornelia  brought  Freshfield  to  a  stop:  "111?" 

Before  them  all,  book  in  hand,  Mr.  Barrett  had  to  give 
assurance  that  he  was  hearty,  and  to  appear  to  think  that 
his  words  were  accepted,  in  spite  of  blanched  jowl  and 
reddened  under-lid.  Cornelia  threw  him  one  glance:  his 
eyes  closed  under  it.  Adela  found  it  necessary  to  address 
some  such  comforting  exclamation  as  '  Goodness  gracious ! ' 
to  her  observant  spirit. 

In  the  park-path,  leading  to  the  wood,  Arabella  was  seen 
as  they  came  out  of  the  young  branches  that  fringed  the 
firs.  She  hurried  up. 

"  I  have  been  looking  for  you.  Papa  has  arrived  with 
Sir  Twickenham  Pry  me,  who  dines  with  us." 

Adela  unhesitatingly  struck  a  blow. 

"Lady  Pryme,  we  make  place  for  you." 

And  she  crossed  to  Cornelia.  Cornelia  kept  her  eyes 
fixed  on  Adela' s  mouth,  as  one  looks  at  a  place  whence  a 
venomous  reptile  has  darted  out.  Her  eyelids  shut,  and 
she  stood  a  white  sculpture  of  pain,  pitiable  to  see.  Emilia 
took  her  hand,  encouraging  the  tightening  fingers  with  a 
responsive  pressure.  The  group  shuffled  awkwardly  U»- 


140  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

gether,  though  Adela  did  her  best.  She  was  very  angry 
with  Mr.  Barrett  for  wearing  that  absurdly  pale  aspect. 
She  was  even  angry  with  his  miserable  bankrupt  face  for 
mounting  a  muscular  edition  of  the  smile  Cornelia  had 
shown.  "His  feelings!"  she  cried  internally;  and  the 
fact  presented  itself  to  her,  that  feelings  were  a  luxury 
utterly  unfit  for  poor  men,  who  were  to  be  accused  of  pre- 
sumption for  indulging  in  them. 

"Now,  I  suppose  you  are  happy?"  she  spoke  low  be- 
tween Arabella  and  Edward. 

The  effect  of  these  words  was  to  colour  violently  two 
pairs  of  cheeks.  Arabella's  behaviour  did  not  quite  satisfy 
the  fair  critic.  Edward  Buxley  was  simply  caught  in  a 
trap.  He  had  the  folly  to  imagine  that  by  laughing  he 
released  himself. 

"  Is  not  that  the  laugh  of  an  engaged?  "  said  Adela  to 
Freshfield. 

He  replied :  "  That  would  have  been  my  idea  under  other 
conditions,"  and  looked  meaningly. 

She  met  the  look  with :  "  There  are  harsh  conditions  in 
life,  are  there  not?  "  and  left  him  sufficiently  occupied  by 
his  own  sensations. 

"Mr.  Barrett,"  she  inquired  (partly  to  assist  the  wretch 
out  of  his  compromising  depression,  and  also  that  the  ques- 
tion represented  a  real  matter  of  debate  in  her  mind),  "  I 
want  your  opinion;  will  you  give  it  me?  Apropos  of  slang, 
why  does  it  sit  well  on  some  people?  It  certainly  does  not 
vulgarize  them.  After  all,  in  many  cases,  it  is  what  they 
<jall  'racy  idiom.'  Perhaps  our  delicacy  is  strained?" 

Now,  it  was  Mr.  Barrett's  established  manner  to  speak 
in  a  deliberately  ready  fashion  upon  the  introduction  of  a 
new  topic.  Habit  made  him,  on  this  occasion,  respond 
instantly ;  but  the  opening  of  the  gates  displayed  the  con- 
fusion of  ideas  within  and  the  raging  tumult. 

He  said :  "  In  many  cases.  There  are  two  sorts.  If  you 
could  call  it  the  language  of  nature !  which  anything  .  .  . 
I  beg  your  pardon,  Slang!  Polite  society  rightly  excludes 
it,  because  ..." 

"Yes,  yes,"  returned  Adela;  "but  do  we  do  rightly  in 
submitting  to  the  absolute  tyranny?  —  I  mean,  I  think, 
originality  flies  from  us  in  consequence." 


IN  THE  WOODS  141 

The  pitiable  mortal  became  a  trifle  more  luminous :  "  The 
objection  is  to  the  repetition  of  risked  phrases.  A  happy 
audacity  of  expression  may  pass.  It  is  bad  taste  to  repeat 
it,  that  is  all.  Then  there  is  the  slang  of  heavy  boorish- 
ness,  and  the  slang  of  impatient  wit  ..." 

" Is  there  any  fine  distinction  between  the  extremes?" 
said  Cornelia,  in  as  clear  a  tone  as  she  could  summon. 

"I  think,"  observed  Arabella,  "that  whatever  shows 
staleness  speedily  is  self -condemned;  and  that  is  the  case 
with  slang." 

"  And  yet  it's  to  avoid  some  feeling  of  the  sort  that  people 
employ  it,"  was  Adela's  remark;  and  the  discussion  of 
this  theme  dropped  lifelessly,  and  they  walked  on  as 
before. 

Coming  to  a  halt  near  the  garden  gate,  Adela  tapped 
Emilia's  cheek,  addressing  her:  "How  demure  she  has 
become ! " 

"  Ah ! "  went  Arabella,  "  does  she  know  papa  has  had  a 
letter  from  Mr.  Pericles,  who  wrote  from  Milan  to  say  that 
he  has  made  arrangements  for  her  to  enter  the  Academy 
there,  and  will  come  to  fetch  her  in  a  few  days  ?  " 

Emilia's  wrists  crossed  below  her  neck,  while  she  gave 
ear. 

"To  take  me  away?"  she  said. 

The  tragic  attitude  and  outcry,  with  the  mournful  flash 
of  her  eyes,  might  have  told  Emilia's  tale. 

Adela  unwillingly  shielded  her  by  interpreting  the  scene. 
"See!  she  must  be  a  born  actress.  They  always  exag- 
gerate in  that  style,  so  that  you  would  really  think  she  had 
a  mighty  passion  for  Brookfield." 

"Or  in  it,"  suggested  Freshfield. 

"  Or  in  it! "  she  laughed  assentingly. 

Mr.  Pole  was  perceived  entering  the  garden,  rubbing  his 
hands  a  little  too  obsequiously  to  some  remark  of  the  baro- 
net's, as  the  critical  ladies  imagined.  Sir  Twickenham's 
arm  spread  out  in  a  sweep;  Mr.  Pole's  head  nodded.  After 
the  ceremony  of  the  salute,  the  ladies  were  informed  of  Sir 
Twickenham's  observation:  Sir  Twickenham  Pryme,  a  sta- 
tistical member  of  Parliament,  a  well-preserved  half-cen- 
tury in  age,  a  gentleman  in  bearing,  passably  grey-headed, 
his  whiskers  brushed  out  neatly,  as  if  he  knew  them  indir 


142  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

yidually  and  had  the  exact  amount  of  them  collectively  at 
his  fingers'  ends :  Sir  Twickenham  had  said  of  Mr.  Pole's 
infant  park  that  if  devoted  to  mangold-wurzel  it  would  be 
productive  and  would  pay :  whereas  now  it  was  not  orna- 
mental and  was  waste. 

"Sir  Twickenham  calculates,"  said  Mr.  Pole,  "that  we 
should  have  a  crop  of — eh  ?  " 

"The  average?"  Sir  Twickenham  asked,  on  the  evident 
upward  mounting  of  a  sum  in  his  brain.  And  then,  with  a 
relaxing  look  upon  Cornelia:  "Perhaps  you  might  have 
fifteen,  sixteen,  perhaps  for  the  first  year ;  or,  say  —  you  see, 
the  exact  acreage  is  unknown  to  me.  Say  roughly,  ten 
thousand  sacks  the  first  year." 

"  Of  what  ?  "  inquired  Cornelia. 

"  Mangold-wurzel,"  said  the  baronet. 

She  gazed  about  her.     Mr.  Barrett  was  gone. 

"  But,  no  doubt,  you  take  no  interest  in  such  reckonings  ?  " 
Sir  Twickenham  added. 

"On  the  contrary,  I  take  every  interest  in  practical 
details." 

Practical  men  believe  this  when  they  hear  it  from  the 
lips  of  gentlewomen,  and  without  philosophically  analyzing 
the  fact  that  it  is  because  the  practical  quality  possesses 
simply  the  fascination  of  a  form  of  strength.  Sir  Twicken- 
ham pursued  his  details.  Day  closed  on  Brookfield  blankly. 
Nevertheless,  the  ladies  felt  that  the  situation  was  now 
dignified  by  tragic  feeling,  and  remembering  keenly  how 
they  had  been  degraded  of  late,  they  had  a  sad  enjoyment 
of  the  situation. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

RETURN   OF  THE   SENTIMENTALIST   INTO   BONDAGE 

MEANTIME  Wilfrid  was  leading  a  town-life  and  occasion- 
ally visiting  Stornley.  He  was  certainly  not  in  love  with 
Lady  Charlotte  Chillingworth,  but  he  was  in  harness  to  that 
lady.  In  love  we  have  some  idea  whither  we  would  go :  in 
harness  we  are  simply  driven,  and  the  destination  may  be 


RETURN  OF  THE  SENTIMENTALIST  INTO  BONDAGE      143 

anywhere.  To  be  reduced  to  this  condition  (which  will 
happen  now  and  then  in  the  case  of  very  young  men  who 
are  growing  up  to  something,  and  is,  if  a  momentary  shame 
to  them,  rather  a  sign  of  promise  than  not)  the  gentle  male 
need  not  be  deeply  fascinated.  Lady  Charlotte  was  not  a 
fascinating  person.  She  did  not  lay  herself  out  to  attract. 
Had  she  done  so,  she  would  have  failed  to  catch  Wilfrid, 
whose  soul  thirsted  for  poetical  refinement  and  filmy  deli- 
cacies in  a  woman.  What  she  had,  and  what  he  knew  that 
he  wanted,  and  could  only  at  intervals  assume  by  acting  as 
if  he  possessed  it,  was  a  victorious  aplomb,  which  gave  her 
a  sort  of  gallant  glory  in  his  sight.  He  could  act  it  well 
before  his  sisters,  and  here  and  there  a  damsel ;  and  coming 
fresh  from  Lady  Charlotte's  school,  he  had  recently  done  so 
with  success,  and  had  seen  the  ladies  feel  toward  him  as  he 
felt  under  his  instructress  in  the  art.  Some  nature,  however, 
is  required  for  every  piece  of  art.  Wilfrid  knew  that  he 
had  been  brutal  in  his  representation  of  the  part,  and  the 
retrospect  of  his  conduct  at  Brookfield  did  not  satisfy  his 
remorseless  critical  judgement.  In  consequence,  when  he 
again  saw  Lady  Charlotte,  his  admiration  of  that  one  prized 
characteristic  of  hers  paralyzed  him.  She  looked,  and  moved, 
and  spoke,  as  if  the  earth  were  her  own.  She  was  a  note  of 
true  music,  and  he  felt  himself  to  be  an  indecisive  chord ; 
capable  ultimately  of  a  splendid  performance,  it  might  be, 
but  at  present  crying  out  to  be  played  upon.  This  is  the 
condition  of  a  man  in  harness,  whom  witlings  may  call  what 
they  will.  He  is  subjugated:  not  won.  In. this  state  of 
subjugation  he  will  joyfully  sacrifice  as  much  as  a  man  in 
love.  For,  having  no  consolatory  sense  of  happiness,  such 
as  encircles  and  makes  a  nest  for  lovers,  he  seeks  to  attain 
some  stature,  at  least,  by  excesses  of  apparent  devotion. 
Lady  Charlotte  believed  herself  beloved  at  last.  She  was 
about  to  strike  thirty ;  and  Rumour,  stalking  with  a  turban 
of  cloud  on  her  head, — enough  that  this  shocking  old 
celestial  dowager,  from  condemnation  has  passed  to  pity  of 
the  dashing  lady.  Beloved  at  last !  After  a  while  there  is 
no  question  of  our  loving ;  but  we  thirst  for  love,  if  we  have 
not  had  it.  The  key  of  Lady  Charlotte  will  come  in  the 
course  of  events.  She  was  at  the  doubtful  hour  of  her  life, 
a  warm-hearted  woman,  known  to  be  so  by  few,  generally 


144  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

consigned  by  devout-visaged  Scandal  (for  who  save  the 
devout  will  dare  to  sit  in  the  chair  of  judgement?)  as  a 
hopeless  rebel  against  conventional  laws ;  and  worse  than 
that,  far  worse,  —  though  what,  is  not  said. 

At  Stornley  the  following  letter  from  Emilia  hit  its 
mark :  — 

"DEAR  MR.  WILFRID, 

"  It  is  time  for  mb  to  see  you.  Come  when  you  have 
read  this  letter.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  am,  because  my 
heart  feels  beating  in  another  body.  Pray  come ;  come  now. 
Come  on  a  swift  horse.  The  thought  of  you  galloping  to  me 
goes  through  me  like  a  flame  that  hums.  You  will  come,  I 
know.  It  is  time.  If  I  write  foolishly,  do  forgive  me.  I 
can  only  make  sure  of  the  spelling,  and  I  cannot  please  you 
on  paper,  only  when  I  see  you." 

The  signature  of  "  Emilia  Allessandra  Belloni  "  was  given 
with  her  wonted  proud  flourish. 

Wilfrid  stared  at  the  writing.  "What!  all  this  time  she 
has  been  thinking  the  same  thing ! "  Her  constancy  did 
not  swim  before  him  in  alluring  colours.  He  regarded  it 
as  a  species  of  folly.  Disgust  had  left  him.  The  pool  of 
Memory  would  have  had  to  be  stirred  to  remind  him  of  the 
pipe-smoke  in  her  hair.  "  You  are  sure  to  please  me  when 
you  see  me?"  he  murmured.  "You  are  very  confident, 
young  lady ! "  So  much  had  her  charm  faded.  And  then 
he  thought  kindly  of  her,  and  that  a  meeting  would  not  be 
good  for  her,  and  that  she  ought  to  go  to  Italy  and  follow 
her  profession.  "If  she  grows  famous,"  whispered  cox- 
combry, "  why  then  oneself  will  take  a  little  of  the  praises 
given  to  her."  And  that  seemed  eminently  satisfactory. 
Men  think  in  this  way  when  you  have  loved  them,  ladies. 
All  men  ?  No ;  only  the  coxcombs ;  but  it  is  to  these  that 
you  give  your  fresh  affection.  They  are,  as  it  were,  the 
band  of  the  regiment  of  adorers,  marching  ahead,  while  we 
sober  working  soldiers  follow  to  their  music.  "  If  she  grows 
famous,  why  then  I  can  bear  in  mind  that  her  heart  was 
once  in  niy  possession :  and  it  may  return  to  its  old  owner, 
perchance."  Wilfrid  indulged  in  a  pleasant  little  dream 
of  her  singing  at  the  Opera-house,  and  he,  tied  to  a  fero- 


RETURN  OF  THE  SENTIMENTALIST  INTO  BONDAGE       145 

cious,  detested  wife,  how  softly  and  luxuriously  would  he 
then  be  sighing  for  the  old  time!  It  was  partly  good  seed 
in  his  nature,  and  an  apprehension  of  her  force  of  soul,  that 
kept  him  from  a  thought  of  evil  to  her.  Passion  does  not 
inspire  dark  appetite.  Dainty  innocence  does,  I  am  told. 
Things  are  tested  by  the  emotions  they  provoke.  Wilfrid 
knew  that  there  was  no  trifling  with  Emilia,  so  he  put  the 
letter  by,  commenting  thus :  "  She's  right,  she  doesn't  spell 
badly. "  Behind  which,  to  those  who  have  caught  the  springs 
of  his  character,  volumes  may  be  seen. 

He  put  the  letter  by.  Two  days  later,  at  noon,  the  card 
of  Captain  Gambier  was  brought  to  him  in  the  billiard-room, 
—  on  it  was  written :  "  Miss  Belloni  waits  on  horseback  to 
see  you."  Wilfrid  thought  "Waits!"  and  the  impossi- 
bility of  escape  gave  him  a  notion  of  her  power. 

"So,  you  are  letting  that  go  on,"  said  Lady  Charlotte, 
when  she  heard  that  Emilia  and  the  captain  were  in  company. 

"There  is  no  fear  for  her  whatever." 

"  There  is  always  fear  when  a  man  gives  every  minute  of 
his  time  to  that  kind  of  business,"  retorted  her  ladyship. 

Wilfrid  smiled  the  smile  of  the  knowing.  Rivalry  with 
Gambier  (and  successful  too!)  did  not  make  Emilia's  admi- 
ration so  tasteless.  Some  one  cries  out :  "  But,  what  a  weak 
creature  is  this  young  man !  "  I  reply,  he  was  at  a  critical 
stage  of  his  career.  All  of  us  are  weak  in  the  period  of 
growth,  and  are  of  small  worth  before  the  hour  of  trial. 
This  fellow  had  been  fattening  all  his  life  on  prosperity; 
the  very  best  dish  in  the  world :  but  it  does  not  prove  us. 
It  fattens  and  strengthens  us,  just  as  the  sun  does.  Adver- 
sity is  the  inspector  of  our  constitutions ;  she  simply  tries 
our  muscle  and  powers  of  endurance,  and  should  be  a  peri- 
odical visitor.  But,  until  she  comes,  no  man  is  known. 
Wilfrid  was  not  absolutely  engaged  to  Lady  Charlotte  (she 
had  taken  care  of  that),  and  being  free,  and  feeling  his  heart 
beat  in  more  lively  fashion,  he  turned  almost  delightedly 
to  the  girl  he  could  not  escape  from.  As  when  the  wrig- 
gling eel  that  has  been  prodded  by  the  countryman's  fork, 
finds  that  no  amount  of  wriggling  will  release  it,  lo  it  twists 
in  a  knot  around  the  imprisoning  prong.  This  simile  says 
more  than  I  mean  it  to  say,  but  those  who  understand  similes 
will  know  the  measure  due  to  thet* 


146  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

There  sat  Emilia  on  her  horse.  "  Has  Gambier  been  giv- 
ing her  lessons?"  thought  Wilfrid.  She  sat  up,  well-bal- 
anced ;  and,  as  he  approached,  began  to  lean  gently  forward 
to  him.  A  greeting  'equal  to  any  lady's,'  there  was  no 
doubt.  This  was  the  point  Emilia  had  to  attain,  in  his 
severe  contemplation.  A  born  lady,  on  her  assured  level, 
stood  a  chance  of  becoming  a  Goddess;  but  ladyship  was 
Emilia's  highest  mark.  Such  is  the  state  of  things  to  the 
sentimental  fancy  when  ^irls  are  at  a  disadvantage.  She 
smiled,  and  held  out  both  hands.  He  gave  her  one,  nodding 
kindly,  but  was  too  confused  to  be  the  light-hearted  cava- 
lier. Lady  Charlotte  walked  up  to  her  horse's  side,  after 
receiving  Captain  Gambier's  salute,  and  said :  "  Come,  catch 
hold  of  my  hands  and  jump." 

"No,"  replied  Emilia;  "I  only  came  to  see  him." 

"But  you  will  see  him,  and  me  in  the  bargain,  if  you 
stay." 

"I  fancy  she  has  given  her  word  to  return  early,"  inter- 
posed Wilfrid. 

"Then  we'll  ride  back  with  her,"  said  Lady  Charlotte. 
"Give  me  five  minutes.  I'll  order  a  horse  out  for  you." 

She  smiled,  and  considerately  removed  the  captain,  by 
despatching  him  to  the  stables. 

A  quivering  dimple  of  tenderness  hung  for  a  moment  in 
Emilia's  cheeks,  as  she  looked  upon  Wilfrid.  Then  she 
said  falteringly,  "I  think  they  wish  to  be  as  we  do." 

"Alone?"  cried  Wilfrid. 

"Yes;  that  is  why  I  brought  him  over.  He  will  come 
anywhere  with  me." 

"  You  must  be  mistaken." 

"No;  I  know  it." 

"Did  Ac  tell  you  so?" 

"No;  Mr.  Powys  did." 

"Told  you  that  Lady  Charlotte " 

"Yes.  Not,  is;  but,  was.  And  he  used  that  word,  .  .  . 

there  is  no  word  like  it,  .  .  .  he  said 'her  lover ' Oh! 

mine!  Emilia  lifted  her  arms.  Her  voice  from  its  deep- 
est fall  had  risen  to  a  cry. 

Wilfrid  caught  her  as  she  slipped  from  her  saddle.  His 
eart  was  in  a  tumult;  stirred  both  ways :  stirred  with  wrath 
and  with  love.  He  clasped  her  tightly. 


RETURN  OF  THE  SENTIMENTALIST  INTO  BONDAGE       147 

"Am  I?  — am  I?"  he  breathed. 

"My  lover!  "  Emilia  murmured. 

He  was  her  slave  again. 

For,  here  was  something  absolutely  his  own.  His  own 
from  the  roots ;  from  the  first  growth  of  sensation.  Some- 
thing with  the  bloom  on  it :  to  which  no  other  finger  could 
point  and  say:  "There  is  my  mark." 

(And,  ladies,  if  you  will  consent  to  be  likened  to  a  fruit, 
you  must  bear  with  these  observations,  and  really  deserve 
the  stigma.  If  you  will  smile  on  men,  because  they  adore 
you  as  vegetable  products,  take  what  ensues.) 

Lady  Charlotte  did  no  more  than  double  the  time  she  had 
asked  for.  The  party  were  soon  at  a  quiet  canter  up  the 
lanes;  but  entering  a  broad  furzy  common  with  bramble- 
plots  and  oak-shaws,  the  Amazon  flew  ahead.  Emilia's 
eyes  were  so  taken  with  her,  that  she  failed  to  observe  a 
tiny  red-flowing  runlet  in  the  clay,  with  yellow-ridged  banks 
almost  baked  to  brick.  Over  it  she  was  borne,  but  at  the 
expense  of  a  shaking  that  caused  her  to  rely  on  her  hold  oi 
the  reins,  ignorant  of  the  notions  of  a  horse  outstripped. 
Wilfrid  looked  to  see  that  the  jump  had  been  accomplished, 
and  was  satisfied.  Gambier  was  pressing  his  hack  to  keep 
a  respectable  second.  Lady  Charlotte  spun  round  suddenly, 
crying,  "  Catch  the  mare ! "  and  galloped  back  to  Emilia, 
who  was  deposited  on  a  bush  of  bramble.  Dismounting 
promptly,  the  lady  said:  "My  child,  you're  not  hurt?" 

" Not  a  bit."     Emilia  blinked. 

"Not  frightened?" 

"Not  a  bit,"  was  half  whispered. 

"  That's  brave.  Now  jump  on  your  feet.  Tell  me  why 
you  rode  over  to  us  this  morning.  Quick.  Don't  hesi- 
tate." 

"Because  I  want  Wilfrid  to  see  his  sister  Cornelia,"  came 
the  answer,  with  the  required  absence  of  indecision. 

Emilia  ran  straightway  to  meet  Wilfrid  approaching;  and 
as  both  her  hands,  according  to  her  fashion,  were  stretched  out 
to  him  to  assure  him  of  her  safety  and  take  his  clasp,  for- 
getful of  the  instincts  derived  from  riding-habits,  her  feet 
became  entangled ;  she  trod  herself  down,  falling  plump  for- 
ward and  looking  foolish  —  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  plainly  feeling  so. 


14g  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

«  Up!  little  woman,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  supporting  her 

el^Now,  Sir  Wilfrid,  we  part  here;  and  don't  spoil  her 
courage,  now  she  has  had  a  spill,  by  any  'assiduous  atten- 
tions '  and  precautions.  She's  sure  to  take  as  many  as  are 
needed.  If  Captain  Gambier  thinks  I  require  an  escort,  he 


e  captain,  taken  by  surprise,  bowed,  and  flowed  in 
ardent  commonplace.     Wilfrid  did  not  look  of  a  wholesome 

"Do  you  return?"  he  stammered;  not  without  a  certain 
aspect  of  righteous  reproach. 

"Yes.  You  will  ride  over  to  us  again,  probably,  in  a 
day  or  two?  Captain  Gambier  will  see  me  safe  from  the 
savage  admirers  that  crowd  this  country,  if  I  interpreted 
him  rightly?" 

Emilia  was  lifted  to  her  seat.  Lady  Charlotte  sprang 
unassisted  to  hers.  "Ta-ta!  "  she  waved  her  fingers  from 
her  lips.  The  pairs  then  separated;  one  couple  turning 
into  green  lanes,  the  other  dipping  to  blue  hills. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

LIFE   AT   BEOOKFIELD 

GOSSIP  of  course  was  excited  on  the  subject  of  the  choice 
of  a  partner  made  by  the  member  for  the  county.  Cornelia 
placed  her  sisters  in  one  of  their  most  pleasing  of  difficul- 
ties. She  had  not  as  yet  pledged  her  word.  It  was  sup- 
posed that  she  considered  it  due  to  herself  to  withhold  her 
word  for  a  term.  The  rumour  in  the  family  was,  that  Sir 
Twickenham  appreciated  her  hesitation,  and  desired  that 
he  might  be  intimately  known  before  he  was  finally  accepted. 
When  the  Tinleys  called,  they  heard  that  Cornelia's  accept- 
ance of  the  baronet  was  doubtful.  The  Copleys,  on  the 
other  hand,  distinctly  understood  that  she  had  decided  in 
his  favour.  Owing  to  the  amiable  dissension  between  the 
Copleys  and  the  Tinleys,  each  party  called  again;  giving 


LIFE  IN  BROOKFIBLD  149 

the  ladies  of  Brookfield  further  opportunity  for  studying 
one  of  the  levels  from  which  they  had  risen.  Arabella  did 
almost  all  the  fencing  with  Laura  Tinley,  contemptuously 
as  a  youth  of  station  returned  from  college  will  turn  and 
foil  an  ill-conditioned  villager,  whom  formerly  he  has 
encountered  on  the  green. 

"  Had  they  often  met,  previous  to  the  .  .  .  the  proposal?  " 
inquired  Laura;  and  laughed:  "I  was  going  to  say  'pop- 
ping." 

"  Pray  do  not  check  yourself,  if  a  phrase  appears  to  suit 
you,"  returned  Arabella. 

"But  it  was  in  the  neighbourhood,  was  it  not?" 

"They  have  met  in  the  neighbourhood." 

"At  Richford?" 

"Also  at  Richford." 

"We  thought  it  was  sudden,  dear;  that's  all." 

"Why  should  it  not  be?" 

"Perhaps  the  best  things  are,  it  is  true." 

"You  congratulate  us  upon  a  benefit?" 

"  He  is  to  be  congratulated  seriously.  Naturally.  When 
she  decides,  let  me  know  early,  I  do  entreat  you,  because 
.  .  .  well,  I  am  of  a  different  opinion  from  some  people, 
who  talk  of  another  attachment,  or  engagement,  and  I  do 
not  believe  in  it,  and  have  said  so." 

Rising  to  depart,  Laura  Tinley  resumed :  "  Most  singular ! 
You  are  aware,  of  course,  that  poor  creature,  our  organist 

—  I  ought  to  say  yours  —  who  looked  (it  was  Mr.  Sumner 
I  heard  say  it  —  such  a  good  thing!)  'as  if  he  had  been  a 
gentleman  in  another  world,  and  was  the  ghost  of  one  in 
this  ' :  —  really  one  of  the  cleverest  things !  but  he  is  clever ! 

—  Barrett's  his  name :  Barrett  and  some  musical  name  before 
it,  like  Handel.    I  mean  one  that  we  are  used  to.    Well,  the 
man  has  totally  and  unexpectedly  thrown  up  his  situation.'* 

"His  appointment,"  said  Arabella.  Permitting  no  sur- 
prise to  be  visible,  she  paused:  "Yes.  I  don't  think  we 
shall  give  our  consent  to  her  filling  the  post." 

Laura  let  it  be  seen  that  her  adversary  was  here  a  sen- 
tence too  quick  for  her. 

"Ah!  you  mean  your  little  Miss  Belloni?" 

"Was  it  not  of  her  you  were  thinking? " 

"When?"  asked  Laura,  shamefully  bewildered. 


150  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"When  you  alluded  to  Mr.  Barrett's  vacant  place." 

"Not  at  the  moment." 

"I  thought  you  must  be  pointing  to  her  advancement." 

"  I  confess  it  was  not  in  my  mind." 

"  In  what  consisted  the  singularity,  then?  " 

"The  singularity?" 

"You  prefaced  your  remarks  with  the  exclamation,  'Sin- 
gular!'" 

Laura  showed  that  Arabella  had  passed  her  guard.  She 
hastened  to  compliment  her  on  her  kindness  to  Emilia,  and 
so  sheathed  her  weapon  for  the  time,  having  just  enjoyed  a 
casual  inspection  of  Mrs.  Chump  entering  the  room,  and 
heard  the  brogue  an  instant. 

"Irish!"  she  whispered,  smiling,  with  a  sort  of  aston- 
ished discernment  of  the  nationality,  and  swept  through 
the  doorway :  thus  conveying  forcibly  to  Arabella  her  know- 
ledge of  what  the  ladies  of  Brookfield  were  enduring :  a  fine 
Parthian  shot. 

That  Cornelia  should  hold  a  notable  county  man,  a  baronet 
and  owner  of  great  acres,  in  a  state  between  acceptance  and 
rejection,  was  considered  high  policy  by  the  ladies,  whom 
the  idea  of  it  elevated;  and  they  encouraged  her  to  pursue 
this  course,  without  having  a  suspicion,  shrewd  as  they 
were,  that  it  was  followed  for  any  other  object  than  the 
honour  of  the  family.  But  Mr.  Pole  was  in  the  utmost  per- 
plexity, and  spoke  of  baronets  as  things  almost  holy,  to  be 
kneeled  to,  prayed  for.  He  was  profane.  "I  thought, 
papa,"  said  Cornelia,  "that  women  conferred  the  favour 
when  they  gave  their  hands ! " 

It  was  a  new  light  to  the  plain  merchant.  "  How  should 
you  say  if  a  Prince  came  and  asked  for  you  ?  " 

"  Still  that  he  asked  a  favour  at  my  hands." 

"  Oh !  "  went  Mr.  Pole,  in  the  voice  of  a  man  whose  reason 
is  outraged.  The  placidity  of  Cornelia's  reply  was  not  with- 
out its  effect  on  him,  nevertheless.  He  had  always  thought 
kiigirls  extraordinary  girls,  and  born  to  be  distinguished. 

Perhaps  she  has  a  lord  in  view,"  he  concluded :  it  being  his 
constant  delusion  to  suppose  that  high  towering  female  sense 
has  always  a  practical  aim  at  a  material  thing.  He  was  no 
judge  of  the  sex  in  its  youth.  "  Just  speak  to  her,"  he  said 
to  Wilfrid. 


LIFE  IN  BEOOKFIELD  151 

Wilfrid  had  heard  from  Emilia  that  there  was  a  tragic 
background  to  this  outward  placidity  ;  tears  on  the  pillow  at 
night  and  long  vigils.  Emilia  had  surprised  her  weeping, 
and  though  she  obtained  no  confidences,  the  soft  mood  was 
so  strong  in  the  stately  lady,  that  she  consented  to  weep  on 
while  Emilia  clasped  her.  Petitioning  on  her  behalf  to  Wil- 
frid for  aid,  Emilia  had  told  him  the  scene ;  and  he,  with  a 
man's  stupidity,  alluded  to  it,  not  thinking  what  his  know- 
ledge of  it  revealed  to  a  woman. 

"  Why  do  you  vacillate,  and  keep  us  all  in  the  dark  as  to 
what  you  mean  ?  "  he  began. 

"  I  am  not  prepared,"  said  Cornelia ;  the  voice  of  humility 
issuing  from  a  monument. 

"  One  of  your  oracular  phrases !  Are  you  prepared  to  be 
straightforward  in  your  dealings  ?  " 

"  I  am  prepared  for  any  sacrifice,  Wilfrid." 

"  The  marrying  of  a  man  in  his  position  is  a  sacrifice ! " 

"  I  cannot  leave  papa." 

"  And  why  not  ?  " 

"  He  is  ill.  He  does  not  speak  of  it,  but  he  is  ill.  His 
actions  are  strange.  They  are  unaccountable." 

"  He  has  an  old  friend  to  reside  in  his  house  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  that.  I  have  noticed  him.  His  mind  ...  he 
requires  watching." 

"  And  how  long  is  it  since  you  made  this  discovery  ?  " 

"  One  sees  clearer  perhaps  when  one  is  not  quite  happy." 

"  Not  happy !  Then  it's  for  him  that  you  turn  the  night 
to  tears?" 

Cornelia  closed  her  lips.  She  divined  that  her  betrayer 
must  be  close  in  his  confidence.  She  went  shortly  after  to 
Emilia,  whose  secret  at  once  stood  out  bare  to  a  kindled 
suspicion.  There  was  no  fear  that  Cornelia  would  put  her 
finger  on  it  accusingly,  or  speak  of  it  directly.  She  had  the 
sentimentalist's  profound  respect  for  the  name  and  notion  of 
love.  She  addressed  Emilia  vaguely,  bidding  her  keep  guard 
on  her  emotions,  and  telling  her  there  was  one  test  of  the 
truth  of  masculine  protestations  ;  this,  Will  he  marry  you  ? 
The  which,  if  you  are  poor,  is  a  passably  infallible  test. 
Emilia  sucked  this  in  thoughtfully.  She  heard  that  lovers 
were  false.  Why,  then  of  course  they  were  not  like  her 
\over!  Cornelia  finished  what  she  deemed  her  duty,  and 


152  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

departed,  while  Emilia  thought:  "I  wonder  whether  he 
could  be  false  to  me ; "  and  she  gave  herself  shrewd  half- 
delicious  jarrings  of  pain,  forcing  herself  to  contemplate  the 
impossible  thing. 

She  was  in  this  state  when  Mrs.  Chump  came  across  her, 
and  with  a  slight  pressure  of  a  sovereign  into  her  hand, 
said :  —  "  There,  it's  for  you,  little  Belloni !  and  I  see  ye've 
been  thinkin'  me  one  o'  the  scrape-hards  and  close-fists. 
It's  Pole  who  keeps  me  low,  on  purpose.  And  I'm  a  wretch 
if  I  haven't  my  purse  full,  so  you  see  I'm  all  in  the  dark  in 
the  house,  and  don't  know  half  so  much  as  the  sluts  o'  the 
kitchen.  So,  ye'll  tell  me,  little  Belloni,  is  Arr'bella  goin' 
to  marry  Mr.  Annybody  ?  And  is  Cornelia  goin'  to  marry 
Sir  Tickleham  ?  And  whether  Mr.  Wilfrud's  goin'  to  marry 
Lady  Charlotte  Chill'nworth  ?  Becas,  my  dear,  there's 
Arr'bella,  who's  sharp,  she  is,  as  a  North-easter  in  January, 
(which  Chump  'd  cry  out  for,  for  the  sake  of  his  ships,  poor 
fella  —  he  kneelin'  by  's  bedside  in  a  long  night-gown  and 
lookin'  just  twice  what  he  was!)  she  has  me  like  a  nail  to 
my  vary  words,  and  shows  me  that  nothin'  can  happen  becas 
o'  what  I've  said.  And  Cornelia  —  if  ye'll  fancy  a  tall  cod- 
fish on  its  tail :  '  Mrs.  Chump,  I  beg  ye'll  not  go  to  believe 
annything  of  me.'  So  I  says  to  her,  '  Cornelia  !  my  dear ! 
do  yi  think,  now,  it's  true  that  Chump  went  and  marrud  his 
cook,  that  ye  treat  me  so  ?  becas  my  father,'  I  tell  her,  *  he 
dealt  in  porrk  in  a  large  way,  and  I  was  a  fine  woman,  full 
of  the.  arr'stocracy,  and  Chump  a  little  puffed-out  bladder  of 
a  man.'  So  then  she  says :  — '  Mrs.  Chump,  I  listen  to  no 
gossup:  listen  you  to  no  gossup.'  And  Mr.  Wilfrud,  my 
dear,  he  sends  me  on  the  flat  o'  my  back,  laughin'.  And 
Ad'la  she  takes  and  turns  me  right  about,  so  that  I  don't  see 
the  thing  I'm  askin'  after ;  and  there's  nobody  but  you,  little 
Belloni,  to  help  me,  and  if  ye  do,  ye  shall  know  what  the 
crumple  of  paper  sounds  like." 

Mrs.  Chump  gave  a  sugary  suck  with  her  tongue.  Emilia 
returned  the  money  to  her. 

"  Ye're  foolush ! "  said  Mrs.  Chump.  "  A  shut  fist's  good 
in  fight  and  bad  in  friendship.  Do  ye  know  that  ?  Open 
your  hand." 

Excuse  me,"  persisted  Emilia. 

"  Pooh !  take  the  money,  or  I'll  say  ye're  in  a  conspiracy 
to  make  me  blindman's-buff  of  the  parrty.  Take  ut." 


LIFE  IN  BROOKFIELD  153 

"I  don't  want  it." 

"  Maybe  it's  not  enough  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  any,  ma'am." 

"Ma'am,  to  the  deuce  with  ye!  I'll  be  callin'  ye  a 
forr'ner  in  a  minute,  I  will." 

Emilia  walked  away  from  a  volley  of  terrific  threats. 

For  some  reason,  unfathomed  by  her,  she  wanted  to  be 
alone  with  Wilfrid  and  put  a  question  to  him.  No  other,  in 
sooth,  than  the  infallible  test.  Not,  mind  you,  that  she 
wished  to  be  married.  But  something  she  had  heard  (she 
had  forgotten  what  it  was)  disturbed  her,  and  that  recent 
trifling  with  pain,  in  her  excess  of  happiness,  laid  her  open 
to  it.  Her  heart  was  weaker,  and  fluttered,  as  if  with  a 
broken  wing.  She  Thought,  "  if  I  can  be  near  him  to  lean 
against  him  for  one  full  hour ! "  it  would  make  her  strong 
again.  For,  she  found  that  if  her  heart  was  rising  on  a 
broad  breath,  suddenly,  for  no  reason  that  she  knew,  it 
seemed  to  stop  in  its  rise,  break,  and  sink,  like  a  wind-beaten 
billow.  Once  or  twice,  in  a  quick  fear,  she  thought :  "  What 
is  this  ?  Is  this  a  malady  coming  before  death  ?  "  She 
walked  out  gloomily,  thinking  of  the  darkness  of  the  world 
to  Wilfrid,  if  she  should  die.  She  plucked  flowers,  and  then 
reproached  herself  with  plucking  them.  She  tried  to  sing. 
"  No,  not  till  I  have  been  with  him  alone ;  "  she  said,  chiding 
her  voice  to  silence.  A  shadow  crossed  her  mind,  as  a 
Spring-mist  dulls  the  glory  of  May.  "  Suppose  all  singing 
has  gone  from  me  —  will  he  love  wretched  me  ?  " 

By-and-by  she  met  him  in  the  house.  "Come  out  of 
doors  to-night,"  she  whispered. 

Wilfrid's  spirit  of  intrigue  was  never  to  be  taken  by  sur- 
prise. "  In  the  wood,  under  the  pine,  at  nine,"  he  replied. 

"Not  there,"  said  Emilia,  seeing  this  place  mournfully 
dark  from  Cornelia'::  grief.  "  It  is  too  still ;  say,  where  there':? 
water  falling.  One  can't  be  unhappy  by  noisy  water." 

Wilfrid  considered,  and  named  Wilming  Weir.  "And 
there  we'll  sit  and  you'll  sing  to  me.  I  won't  dine  at  home, 
so  they  won't  susp  —  a  —  fancy  anything.  —  Soh !  and  you 
want  very  much  to  be  with  me,  my  bird  ?  What  am  I  ?  " 
He  bent  his  .head. 

"  My  lover." 

He  pressed  her  hand  rapturously,  half-doubting  whether 


154  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

her  pronunciation  of  the  word  had  not  a  rather  too  confident 
twang. 

Was  it  not  delightful,  he  asked  her,  that  they  should  be 
thus  one  to  the  other,  and  none  know  of  it.  She  thought  so 
too,  and  smiled  happily,  promising  secresy,  at  his  request ; 
for  the  sake  of  continuing  so  felicitous  a  life. 

"You,  you  know,  have  an  appointment  with  Captain 
Gambier,  and  I  with  Lady  Charlotte  Chillingworth,"  said 
he.  "  How  dare  you  make  appointments  with  a  captain  of 
hussars  ?  "  and  he  bent  her  knuckles  fondlingly. 

Emilia  smiled  as  before.  He  left  her  with  a  distinct 
impression  that  she  did  not  comprehend  that  part  of  her 
lesson. 

Wilfrid  had  just  bled  his  father  of  a  considerable  sum  of 
money ;  having  assured  him  that  he  was  the  accepted  suitor 
of  Lady  Charlotte  Chillingworth,  besides  making  himself 
pleasant  in  allusion  to  Mrs.  Chump,  so  far  as  to  cast  some 
imputation  on  his  sisters'  judgement  for  not  perceiving  the 
virtues  of  the  widow.  The  sum  was  improvidently  large. 
Mr.  Pole  did  not  hear  aright  when  he  heard  it  named. 
Even  at  the  repetition,  he  went :  "  Eh  ?  "  two  or  three  times, 
vacantly.  The  amount  was  distinctly  nailed  to  his  ear: 
whereupon  he  said,  "  Ah  !  —  yes !  you  young  fellows  want 
money :  must  have  it,  I  suppose.  Up  from  the  bowels  of 
the  earth !  Up  from  the  — :  you're  sure  they're  not  play- 
ing the  fool  with  you,  over  there  ?  " 

Wilfrid  understood  the  indication  to  Stornley.  "  I  think 
you  need  have  no  fear  of  that,  sir."  And  so  his  father 
thought,  after  an  examination  of  the  youth,  who  was  of 
manly  shape,  and  had  a  fresh,  non-fatuous,  air. 

"Well,  if  that's  all  right  .  .  ."  sighed  Mr.  Pole.  "Of 
course  you'll  always  know  that  money's  money.  I  wish  your 
sisters  wouldn't  lose  their  time,  as  they  do.  Time's  worth 
more  than  money.  What  sum  ?  " 

"I  told  you,  sir,  I  wanted  —  there's  the  yacht,  you  know, 
and  a  lot  of  tradesmen's  bills,  which  you  don't  like  to  see 
standing: — about  —  perhaps  I  had  better  name  the  round 
sum.  Suppose  you  write  down  eight  hundred.  I  shan't  want 
more  for  some  months.  If  you  fancy  it  too  much  .  .  ." 

Mr.  Pole  had  lifted  his  head.  But  he  spoke  nothing.  His 
lips  and  brows  were  rigid  in  apparent  calculation.  Wilfrid 


LIFE  IN  BBOOKFIELD  155 

kept  his  position  for  a  minute  or  so ;  and  then,  a  little  piqued, 
he  moved  about.  He  had  inherited  the  antipathy  to  the  dis- 
cussion of  the  money  question,  and  fretted  to  find  it  unneces- 
sarily prolonged. 

"  Shall  I  come  to  you  on  this  business  another  time,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,  God  bless  my  soul ! "  cried  his  father ;  "  are  you 
going  to  keep  this  hanging  over  me  for  ever  ?  Eight  hundred, 
you  said."  He  mumbled :  "  salary  of  a  chief  clerk  of  twenty 
years'  standing.  Eight:  twice  four: — there  you  have  it 
exactly." 

"  Will  you  send  it  me  in  a  letter  ?  "  said  Wilfrid,  out  of 
patience. 

"  I'll  send  it  you  in  a  letter,"  assented  his  father.  Upon 
which  Wilfrid  changed  his  mind.  "I  can  take  a  chair, 
though.  I  can  easily  wait  for  it  now." 

"  Save  trouble,  if  I  send  it.     Eh  ?  " 

"  Do  you  wish  to  see  whether  you  can  afford  it,  sir  ?  " 

"I  wish  to  see  you  show  more  sense  —  with  your  con- 
founded '  afford.'  Have  you  any  idea  of  bankers'  books  ?  — 
bankers'  accounts  ?  "  Mr.  Pole  fished  his  cheque-book  from 
a  drawer  and  wrote  Wilfrid's  name  and  the  sum,  tore  out  the 
leaf  and  tossed  it  to  him.  "  There,  I've  written  to-day. 
Don't  present  it  for  a  week."  He  rubbed  his  forehead 
hastily,  touching  here  and  there  a  paper  to  put  it  scrupu- 
lously in  a  line  with  the  others.  Wilfrid  left  him,  and 
thought :  "  Kind  old  boy !  Of  course,  he  always  means 
kindly,  but  I  think  I  see  a  glimpse  of  avarice  as  a  sort  of 
a  sign  of  age  coming  on.  I  hope  he'll  live  long !  " 

Wilfrid  was  walking  in  the  garden,  imagining  perhaps 
that  he  was  thinking,  as  the  swarming  sensations  of  little 
people  help  them  to  imagine,  when  Cornelia  ran  hurriedly 
up  to  him  and  said :  "  Come  with  me  to  papa.  He's  ill :  I 
fear  he  is  going  to  have  a  fit." 

"I  left  him  sound  and  well,  just  now,"  said  Wilfrid. 
"  This  is  your  mania." 

"  I  found  him  gasping  in  his  chair  not  two  minutes  after 
you  quitted  him.  Dearest,  he  is  in  a  dangerous  state ! " 

Wilfrid  stept  back  to  his  father,  and  was  saluted  with  sr 
ready  "  Well  ?  "  as  he  entered ;  but  the  mask  had  slipped 
from  half  of  the  old  man's  face,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  Wilfrid  perceived  that  he  had  become  an  old  man. 


156  BMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"  Well,  sir,  you  sent  for  me  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Girls  always  try  to  persuade  you  you're  ill  —  that's  all," 
returned  Mr.  Pole.  His  voice  was  subdued  ;  but  turning  to 
Cornelia,  he  fired  up :  "  It's  preposterous  to  tell  a  man  who 
carries  on  a  business  like  mine,  you've  observed  for  a  long 
while  that  he's  queer !  — There,  my  dear  child,  I  know  that 
you  mean  well.  I  shall  look  all  right  the  day  you're 
married." 

This  allusion,  and  the  sudden  kindness,  drew  a  storm  of 
tears  to  Cornelia's  eyelids. 

"  Papa!  if  you  will  but  tell  me  what  it  is  ! "  she  moaned. 

A  nervous  frenzy  seemed  to  take  possession  of  him.  He 
ordered  her  out  of  the  room. 

She  was  gone,  but  his  arm  was  still  stretched  out,  and  his 
expression  of  irritated  command  did  not  subside. 

Wilfrid  took  his  arm  and  put  it  gently  down  on  the  chair, 
saying :  "  You're  not  quite  the  thing  to-day,  sir." 

"  Are  you  a  fool  as  well  ?  "  Mr.  Pole  retorted.  "  What  do 
you  know  of,  to  make  me  ill  ?  I  live  a  regular  life.  I  eat 
and  drink  just  as  you  all  do ;  and  if  I  have  a  headache,  I'm 
stunned  with  a  whole  family  screaming  as  hard  as  they  can 

that  I'm  going  to  die.  Damned  hard !  I  say,  sir,  it's " 

He  fell  into  a  feebleness. 

"  A  little  glass  of  brandy,  I  think,"  Wilfrid  suggested ; 
and  when  Mr.  Pole  had  gathered  his  mind  he  assented, 
begging  his  son  particularly  to  take  precautions  to  prevent 
anyone  from  entering  the  room  until  he  had  tasted  the  reviv- 
ing liquor. 


CHAPTER  XX 

BY  WILMING  WEIB 


A  HALF-CIRCLE  of  high-banked  greensward,  studded  with 
I  park-trees,  hung  round  the  roar  of  the  water;  distant 
enough  from  the  white-twisting  fall  to  be  mirrored  on  a 
smooth-heaved  surface,  while  its  outpushing  brushwood  be- 
low drooped  under  burdens  of  drowned  reed-flags  that  caught 
th«  foam.  Keen  scent  of  hay,  crossing  the  dark  air,  met 


BY  WELMING  WEIR  157 

Emilia  as  she  entered  the  river-meadow.  A  little  more,  and 
she  saw  the  white  weir-piles  shining,  and  the  grey  roller  just 
beginning  to  glisten  to  the  moon.  Eastward  on  her  left,  be- 
hind a  cedar,  the  moon  had  cast  off  a  thick  cloud,  and  shone 
through  the  cedar-bars  with  a  yellowish  hazy  softness,  mak- 
ing rosy  gold  of  the  first  passion  of  the  tide,  which,  writh- 
ing and  straining  on  through  many  lights,  grew  wide  upon 
the  wonderful  velvet  darkness  underlying  the  wooded  banks. 
With  the  full  force  of  a  young  soul  that  leaps  from  beauty 
seen  to  unimagined  beauty,  Emilia  stood  and  watched  the 
picture.  Then  she  sat  down,  hushed,  awaiting  her  lover. 

Wilfrid,  as  it  chanced,  was  ten  minutes  late.  She  did  not 
hear  his  voice  till  he  had  sunk  on  his  knee  by  her  side. 

"  What  a  reverie ! "  he  said,  half  jealously.  "  Isn't  it 
lovely  here  ?  " 

Emilia  pressed  his  hand,  but  without  turning  her  face  to 
him,  as  her  habit  was.  He  took  it  for  shyness,  and  encour- 
aged her  with  soft  exclamations  and  expansive  tenderness. 

"  I  wish  I  had  not  come  here ! "  she  murmured. 

"  Tell  me  why."     He  folded  his  arm  about  her  waist. 

"  Why  did  you  let  me  wait  ?  "  said  she. 

Wilfrid  drew  out  his  watch ;  blamed  the  accident  that  had 
detained  him,  and  remarked  that  there  were  not  many  min- 
utes to  witness  against  him. 

She  appeared  to  throw  off  her  moodiness.  "  You  are  here 
at  last.  Let  me  hold  your  hand,  and  think,  and  be  quite 
silent." 

"  You  shall  hold  my  hand,  and  think,  and  be  quite  silent, 
my  own  girl !  if  you  will  tell  me  what's  on  your  mind." 

Emilia  thought  it  enough  to  look  in  his  face,  smiling. 

"  Has  anyone  annoyed  you  ?  "  he  cried  out. 

"  No  one." 

"  Then  receive  the  command  of  your  lord,  that  you  kiss 
him." 

"  I  will  kiss  him,"  said  Emilia ;  and  did  so. 

The  salute  might  have  appeased  an  imperious  lord,  but 
was  not  so  satisfactory  to  an  exacting  lover.  He  perceived, 
however,  that,  whether  as  lover  or  as  lord,  he  must  wait  for 
her  now,  owing  to  her  having  waited  for  him :  so,  he  sat  by 
her,  permitting  his  hand  to  be  softly  squeezed,  and  trying 
to  get  at  least  in  the  track  of  her  ideas,  while  her  ear  was 


158  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

turned  to  the  weir,  and  her  eyes  were  on  the  glowing  edges 
of  the  cedar-tree. 

Finally,  on  one  of  many  deep  breaths,  she  said :  "  It's  over. 
Why  were  you  late  ?  But,  never  mind  now.  Never  let  it  be 
long  again  when  I  am  expecting  you.  It's  then  I  feel  so 
much  at  his  mercy.  I  mean,  if  I  am  where  I  hear  falling 
water ;  sometimes  thunder." 

Wilfrid  masked  his  complete  mystification  with  a  caress- 
ing smile  ;  not  without  a  growing  respect  for  the  only  per- 
son who  could  make  him  experience  the  pangs  of  conscious 
silliness.  You  see,  he  was  not  a  coxcomb. 

"  That  German !  "  Emilia  enlightened  him. 

"  Your  old  music-master  ?  " 

"I  wish  it,  I  wish  it!  I  should  soon  be  free  from  him. 
Don't  you  know  that  dreadful  man  I  told  you  about,  who's 
like  a  black  angel  to  me,  because  there  is  no  music  like  his  ? 
and  he's  a  German !  I  told  you  how  I  first  dreamed  about 
him,  and  then  regularly  every  night,  after  talking  with  my 
father  about  Italy  and  his  black-yellow  Tedeschi,  this  man 
came  over  my  pillow  and  made  me  call  him  Master,  Master. 
And  he  is.  He  seems  as  if  he  were  the  master  of  my  soul, 
mocking  me,  making  me  worship  him  in  spite  of  my  hate.  I 
came  here,  thinking  only  of  you.  I  heard  the  water  like  a 
great  symphony.  I  fell  into  dreaming  of  my  music.  That's 
when  I  am  at  his  mercy.  There's  no  one  like  him.  I  must 
detest  music  to  get  free  from  him.  How  can  I  ?  He  is  like 
the  God  of  music."  » 

Wilfrid  now  remembered  certain  of  her  allusions  to  this 
rival,  who  had  hitherto  touched  him  very  little.  Perhaps  it 
was  partly  the  lovely  scene  that  lifted  him  to  a  spiritual 
jealousy,  partly  his  susceptibility  to  a  sentimental  exag- 
geration, and  partly  the  mysterious  new  charm  in  Emilia's 
manner,  that  was  as  a  bordering  lustre,  showing  how  the  full 
orb  was  rising  behind  her. 

"  His  name  ?  "  Wilfrid  asked  for. 

Emilia's  lips  broke  to  the  second  letter  of  the  alphabet ; 
but  she  cut  short  the  word.  "Why  should  you  hear  it? 
And  now  that  you  are  here,  you  drive  him  away.  And  the 
best  is,"  she  laughed,  "  I  am  sure  you  will  not  remember 
any  of  his  pieces.  I  wish  I  could  not  —  not  that  it's  the 
memory ;  but  he  seems  all  round  me.  up  in  the  air,  and  when 


BY  WILMINQ   WEIB 

the  trees  move  all  together  .  .  .  you  chase  him  away,  my 
lover ! " 

It  was  like  a  break  in  music,  the  way  that  Emilia  sud- 
denly closed  her  sentence ;  coming  with  a  shock  of  nattering 
surprise  upon  Wilfrid. 

Then  she  pursued :  "  My  English  lover !  I  am  like  Italy, 
in  chains  to  that  German,  and  you  .  .  .  but  no,  no,  no ! 
It's  not  quite  a  likeness,  for  my  German  is  not  a  brute.  I 
have  seen  his  picture  in  shop-windows :  the  wind  seemed  in 
his  hair,  and  he  seemed  to  hear  with  his  eyes :  his  forehead 
frowning  so.  Look  at  me,  and  see.  So  ! " 

Emilia  pressed  up  the  hair  from  her  temples  and  bent  her 
brows. 

"  It  does  not  increase  your  beauty,"  said  Wilfrid. 

"  There's  the  difference  !  "  Emilia  sighed  mildly.  "  He 
sees  angels,  cherubs,  and  fairies,  and  imps,  and  devils ;  or 
he  hears  them :  they  come  before  him  from  far  off,  in  music. 
They  do  to  me,  now  and  then.  Only  now  and  then,  when 
my  head's  on  fire.  —  My  lover  ! " 

Wilfrid  pressed  his  mouth  to  the  sweet  instrument.  She 
took  his  kiss  fully,  and  gave  her  own  frankly,  in  return. 
Then,  sighing  a  very  little,  she  said:  "Do  not  kiss  me 
much." 

«  Why  not  ?  " 

"  No ! " 

"But,  look  at  me." 

"  I  will  look  at  you.  Only  take  my  hand.  See  the  moon 
is  getting  whiter.  The  water  there  is  like  a  pool  of  snakes, 
and  then  they  struggle  out,  and  roll  over  and  over,  and 
stream  on  lengthwise.  I  can  see  their  long  flat  heads,  and 
their  eyes :  almost  their  skins.  No,  my  lover !  do  not  kiss 
me.  I  lose  my  peace." 

Wilfrid  was  not  willing  to  relinquish  his  advantage,  and 
the  tender  deep  tone  of  the  remonstrance  was  most  musical 
and  catching.  What  if  he  pulled  her  to  earth  from  that 
rival  of  his  in  her  soul  ?  She  would  then  be  wholly  his  own. 
His  lover's  sentiment  had  grown  ragingly  jealous  of  the 
lordly  German.  But  Emilia  said,  "  I  have  you  on  my  heart 
more  when  I  touch  your  hand  only,  and  think.  If  you  kiss 
me,  I  go  into  a  cloud,  and  lose  your  face  in  my  mind." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  "  replied  Wilfrid,  pleased  to  sustain  the  argu- 


160  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

ment  for  the  sake  of  its  fruitful  promises.  "But  you  must 
submit  to  be  kissed,  my  darling.  You  will  have  to." 

She  gazed  inquiringly. 

"  When  you  are  married,  I  mean." 

"  When  will  you  marry  me  ?  "  she  said. 

The  heir-apparent  of  the  house  of  Pole  blinked  probably 
at  that  moment  more  foolishly  than  most  mortal  men  have 
done.  Taming  his  astonishment  to  represent  a  smile,  he 
remarked :  "  When  ?  are  you  thinking  about  it  already  ?  " 

She  answered,  in  a  quiet  voice  that  conveyed  the  fact  for- 
cibly, "  Yes." 

"  But  you're  too  young  yet ;  and  you're  going  to  Italy,  to 
learn  in  the  schools.  You  wouldn't  take  a  husband  there 
with  you,  would  you  ?  What  would  the  poor  devil  do  ?  " 

"  But  you  are  not  too  young,"  said  she. 

Wilfrid  supposed  not. 

"  Could  you  not  go  to  my  Italy  with  me  ?  " 

"  Impossible  !  What !  as  a  dangling  husband  ?  "  Wilfrid 
laughed  scornfully. 

"They  would  love  you  too,"  she  said.  "They  are  such 
loving  people.  Oh,  come !  Consent  to  come,  my  lover !  I 
must  learn.  If  I  do  not,  you  will  despise  me.  How  can  I 
bring  anything  to  lay  at  your  feet,  my  dear  !  mv  dear  !  if  I 
do  not?" 

"  Impossible !  "  Wilfrid  reiterated,  as  one  who  had  found 
moorings  in  the  word. 

"  Then  I  will  give  up  Italy !  " 

He  had  not  previously  acted  hypocrite  with  this  amazing 
girl.  Nevertheless,  it  became  difficult  not  to  do  so.  He 
could  scarcely  believe  that  he  had  on  a  sudden,  and  by 
trange  agency,  slipped  into  an  earnest  situation.  Emilia's 
attitude  and  tone  awakened  him  to  see  it.  Her  hands  were 
clenched  straight  down  from  her  shoulders :  all  that  she 
conceived  herself  to  be  renouncing  for  his  sake  was  expressed 
in  her  face. 

"  Would  you,  really  ?  "  he  murmured. 

"I  will!" 

"  And  be  English  altogether  ?  " 

"  Be  yours ! " 

"  Mine  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  from  this  time." 


BY  WILMING  WEIR  161 

Now  stirred  his  better  nature :  though  not  before  had  he 
sceptically  touched  her  lips  and  found  them  cold,  as  if  the 
fire  had  been  taken  out  of  them  by  what  they  had  uttered. 
He  felt  that  it  was  no  animal  love,  but  the  force  of  a  soul 
drawn  to  him ;  and,  forgetting  the  hypocritical  foundation 
he  had  laid,  he  said :  "  How  proud  I  shall  be  of  you ! " 

"  I  shall  go  with  you  to  battle,"  returned  Emilia. 

"  My  little  darling !  You  won't  care  to  see  those  black 
fellows  killed,  will  you  ?  " 

Emilia  shuddered.  "  No ;  poor  things !  Why  do  you  hurt 
them  ?  Kill  wicked  people,  tyrant  whitecoats !  And  we 
will  not  talk  of  killing  now.  Proud  of  me  ?  If  I  can  make 
you ! " 

"  You  sigh  so  heavily ! " 

"  Something  makes  me  feel  like  a  little  beggar." 

"  When  I  tell  you  I  love  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  only  feel  rich  when  I  am  giving ;  and  I  seem 
to  have  nothing  to  give  now :  —  now  that  I  have  lost  Italy ! " 

"  But  you  give  me  your  love,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  All  of  it.  But  I  seem  to  give  it  to  you  in  tatters :  it's 
like  a  beggar ;  like  a  day  without  any  sun." 

"  Do  you  think  I  shall  have  that  idea  when  I  hear  you 
sing  to  me,  and  know  that  this  little  leaping  fountain  of 
music  here  is  mine  ?  " 

Dim  rays  of  a  thought  led  Emilia  to  remark,  "  Must  not 
men  kneel  to  women  ?  I  mean,  if  they  are  to  love  them  for 
ever  ?  " 

Wilfrid  smiled  gallantly :  "  I  will  kneel  to  you,  if  it 
pleases  you." 

"  Not  now.  You  should  have  done  so,  once,  I  dreamed : 
only  once,  just  for  a  moment,  in  Italy ;  when  all  were  cry- 
ing out  to  me  that  I  had  caught  their  hearts.  I  fancied 
standing  out  like  a  bright  thing  in  a  dark  crowd,  and  then 
saying  '  I  am  his ! '  pointing  to  you,  and  folding  my  arms, 
waiting  for  you  to  take  me." 

The  lover's  imagination  fired  at  the  picture,  and  imme- 
diately he  told  a  lover's  lie ;  for  the  emotion  excited  by  the 
thought  of  her  glory  coloured  deliciously  that  image  of  her 
abnegation  of  all  to  him.  He  said :  "  I  would  rather  have 
you  as  you  are." 

Emilia  leaned  to  him  morej  and  the  pair  fixed  their  eyes 


162  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

on  the  moon,  that  had  now  topped  the  cedar,  and  was  pure 
silver :  silver  on  the  grass,  on  the  leafage,  on  the  waters. 
And  in  the  West,  facing  it,  was  an  arch  of  twilight  and 
tremulous  rose ;  as  if  a  spirit  hung  there  over  the  shrouded 
sun. 

"  At  least,"  thought  Wilfrid,  "  heaven,  and  the  beauty  of 
the  world,  approve  my  choice."  And  he  looked  up,  fancy- 
ing that  he  had  a  courage  almost  serene  to  meet  his  kindred 
with  Emilia  on  his  arm. 

She  felt  his  arm  dreamily  stressing  its  clasp  about  her, 
and  said  :  "  Now  I  know  you  love  me.  And  you  shall  take 
me  as  I  am.  I  need  not  be  so  poor  after  all.  My  dear !  my 
dear !  I  cannot  see  beyond  you." 

"Is  that  your  misery  ?  "  said  he. 

"My  delight!  my  pleasure!  One  can  live  a  life  any- 
where. And  how  can  I  belong  to  Italy,  if  I  am  yours  ? 
Do  you  know,  when  we  were  silent  just  now,  I  was  thinking 
that  water  was  the  history  of  the  world  flowing  out  before 
me,  all  mixed  up  of  kings  and  queens,  and  warriors  with 
armour,  and  shouting  armies ;  battles  and  numbers  of  mixed 
people ;  and  great  red  sunsets,  with  women  kneeling  under 
them.  Do  you  know  those  long  low  sunsets  ?  I  love  them. 
They  look  like  blood  spilt  for  love.  The  noise  of  the  water, 
and  the  moist  green  smell,  gave  me  hundreds  of  pictures 
that  seemed  to  hug  me.  I  thought  —  what  could  stir  music 
in  me  more  than  this  ?  and,  am  I  not  just  as  rich  if  I  stay 
here  with  my  lover,  instead  of  flying  to  strange  countries, 
that  I  shall  not  care  for  now  ?  So,  you  shall  take  me  as  I 
am.  I  do  not  feel  poor  any  longer." 

With  that  she  gave  him  both  her  hands. 

"  Yes,"  said  Wilfrid. 

As  if  struck  by  the  ridicule  of  so  feeble  a  note,  falling 
upon  her  passionate  speech,  he  followed  it  up  with  the  "  yes ! " 
of  a  man ;  adding :  "  Whatever  you  are,  you  are  my  dear 
girl ;  my  own  love ;  mine ! " 

Having  said  it,  he  was  screwed  up  to  feel  it  as  nearly  as 
possible,  such  virtue  is  there  in  uttered  words. 

Then  he  set  about  resolutely  studying  to  appreciate  her  in 
the  new  character  she  had  assumed  to  him.  It  is  barely  to  be 
supposed  that  he  should  understand  what  in  her  love  for  him 
she  sacrificed  in  giving  up  Italy,  as  she  phrased  it.  He  had 


BY   WILMING  WEIR  163 

some  little  notion  of  the  sacrifice ;  but,  as  he  did  not  demand 
any  sacrifice  of  the  sort,  and  as  this  involved  a  question  per- 
plexing, irritating,  absurd,  he  did  not  regard  it  very  favour- 
ably. As  mistress  of  his  fancy,  her  prospective  musical 
triumphs  were  the  crown  of  gold  hanging  over  her.  As  wife 
of  his  bosom,  they  were  not  to  be  thought  of.  But  the  wife 
of  his  bosom  must  take  her  place  by  virtue  of  some  wondrous 
charm.  What  was  it  that  Emilia  could  show,  if  not  music  ? 
Beautiful  eyebrows :  thick  rare  eyebrows,  no  doubt :  couched 
upon  her  full  eyes,  they  were  a  marvel :  and  her  eyes  were  a 
marvel.  She  had  a  sweet  mouth,  too,  though  the  upper  lip 
did  not  boast  the  aristocratic  conventional  curve  of  adorable 
pride,  or  the  under  lip  a  pretty  droop  to  a  petty  rounded 
chin.  Her  face  was  like  the  after-sunset  across  a  rose-garden, 
with  the  wings  of  an  eagle  poised  outspread  on  the  light. 
Some  such  coloured,  vague,  magnified  impression  Wilfrid 
took  of  her.  Still,  it  was  not  quite  enough  to  make  him 
scorn  contempt,  should  it  whisper :  nor  even  quite  enough 
to  combat  successfully  the  image  of  elegant  dames  in  their 
chosen  attitudes  —  the  queenly  moments  when  perhaps  they 
enter  an  assembly,  or  pour  out  tea  with  an  exquisite  exhibi- 
tion of  arm,  or  recline  upon  a  couch,  commanding  homage  of 
the  world  of  little  men.  What  else  had  this  girl  to  count 
upon  to  make  her  exclusive  ?  A  devoted  heart ;  she  had  a 
loyal  heart,  and  perfect  frankness :  a  mind  impressible,  in- 
telligent, and  fresh.  She  gave  promise  of  fair  companionship 
at  all  seasons.  She  could  put  a  spell  upon  him,  moreover. 
By  that  power  of  hers,  never  wilfully  exercised,  she  came,  in 
spite  of  the  effect  left  on  him  by  her  early  awkwardnesses  and 
*  animalities,'  nearer  to  his  idea  of  superhuman  nature  than 
anything  he  knew  of.  But  how  would  she  be  regarded  when 
the  announcement  of  Mrs.  Wilfrid  Pole  brought  scrutinizing 
eyes  and  gossiping  mouths  to  bear  on  her  ?  • 

It  mattered  nothing.  He  kissed  her,  and  the  vision  of  the 
critical  world  faded  to  a  blank.  Whatever  she  was,  he  was 
her  prime  luminary,  so  he  determined  to  think  that  he  cast 
light  upon  a  precious,  an  unrivalled  land. 

"  You  are  my  own,  are  you  not,  Emilia  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  am,"  she  answered. 

"  That  water  seems  to  say  '  for  ever,' "  he  murmured ;  and 
Emilia's  fingers  pressed  upon  his. 


164  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

Of  marriage  there  was  no  further  word.  Her  heart  was 
evidently  quite  at  ease ;  and  that  it  should  be  so  without 
chaining  him  to  a  date,  was  Wilfrid's  peculiar  desire.  He 
could  pledge  himself  to  eternity,  but  shrank  from  being 
bound  to  eleven  o'clock  on  the  morrow  morning. 

So,  now,  the  soft  Summer  hours  flew  like  white  doves  from 
off  the  mounting  moon,  and  the  lovers  turned  to  go,  all  being 
still :  even  the  noise  of  the  waters  still  to  their  ears,  as  life 
that  is  muffled  in  sleep.  They  saw  the  cedar  grey-edged 
under  the  moon :  and  Night,  that  clung  like  a  bat  beneath 
its  ancient  open  palms.  The  bordering  sward  about  the  falls 
shone  silvery.  In  its  shadow  was  a  swan.  These  scenes 
are  but  beckoning  hands  to  the  hearts  of  lovers,  waving  them 
on  to  that  Eden  which  they  claim :  but  when  the  hour  has 
fled,  they  know  it ;  and  by  the  palpitating  light  in  it  they 
know  that  it  holds  the  best  of  them. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

RETURN   OF   MR.    PERICLES 


AT  this  season  Mr.  Pericles  reappeared.  He  had  been,  he 
said,  through  "  Paris,  Turin,  Milano,  Veniss,  and  by  Trieste 
over  the  Sommering  to  Vienna  on  a  tour  for  a  voice."  And 
in  no  part  of  the  Continent,  his  vehement  declaration  assured 
the  ladies,  had  he  found  a  single  one.  It  was  one  universal 
croak  —  ahi !  And  Mr.  Pericles  could  affirm  that  Purgatory 
would  have  no  pains  for  him  after  the  torments  he  had 
recently  endured.  "  Zey  are  frogs  if  zey  are  not  geese,"  said 
Mr.  Pericles.  <!  I  give  up.  Opera  is  dead.  Hein  ?  for  a 
time ; "  and  he  smiled  almost  graciously,  adding :  "  Where 
is  she  ?  "  For  Emilia  was  not  present. 

The  ladies  now  perceived  a  greatness  of  mind  in  the 
Greek's  devotion  to  music,  and  in  his  non-mercenary  travels 
to  assist  managers  of  Opera  by  discovering  genius.  His 
scheme  for  Emilia  fired  them  with  delight.  They  were 
about  to  lay  down  all  the  material  arrangements  at  once,  but 
Mrs.  Chump,  who  had  heard  that  there  was  a  new  man  in 


RETURN  OF  MR.   PERICLES  165 

the  house,  now  entered  the  room,  prepared  to  conquer  him. 
As  thus,  after  a  short  form  of  introduction :  "  D'ye  do,  sir ! 
and  ye're  Mr.  Paricles.  Oh !  but  ye're  a  Sultan,  they  say. 
Not  in  morrl's,  sir.  And  vary  pleasant  to  wander  on  the 
Continent  with  a  lot  o'  lacqueys  at  your  heels.  It's  what  a 
bachelor  can  do.  But  I  ask  ye,  sir,  is  ut  fair,  ye  think,  to 
the  poor  gaiis  that  has  to  stop  at  home  ?  " 

Hereat  the  ladies  of  Brookfield,  thus  miserably  indicated, 
drew  upon  their  self-command  that  sprang  from  the  high 
sense  of  martyrdom. 

Mr.  Pericles  did  not  reply  to  Mrs.  Chump  at  all.  He 
turned  to  Adela,  saying  aloud :  "  What  is  zis  person  ?  " 

It  might  have  pleased  them  to  hear  any  slight  put  pub- 
licly on  Mrs.  Chump  in  the  first  resistance  to  the  woman, 
but  in  the  present  stage  their  pride  defended  her.  "  Our 
friend,"  was  the  reply  with  which  Arabella  rebuked  his 
rudeness;  and  her  sister  approved  her.  "We  can  avoid 
showing  that  we  are  weak  in  our  own  opinion,  whatsoever 
degrades  us,"  they  had  said  during  a  consultation.  Simul- 
taneously they  felt  that  Mr.  Pericles  being  simply  a  mill- 
ionaire and  not  In  Society,  being  also  a  middle-class 
foreigner  (a  Greek  whose  fathers  ran  with  naked  heels  and 
long  lank  hair  on  the  shores  of  the  ^Egean),  before  such  a 
man  they  might  venture  to  identify  this  their  guest  with 
themselves :  an  undoubted  duty,  in  any  case,  but  not  always 
to  be  done ;  at  least,  not  with  grace  and  personal  satisfac- 
tion. Therefore,  the  "our  friend"  dispersed  a  common 
gratulatory  glow.  Very  small  points,  my  masters;  but 
how  are  coral-islands  built? 

Mrs.  Chump  fanned  her  cheek,  in  complete  ignorance  of 
the  offence  and  defence.  Chump,  deceased,  in  amorous 
mood,  had  praised  her  management  of  the  fan  once,  when 
breath  was  in  him :  " '  Martha,'  says  he,  winkin'  a  sort  of 
'mavourneen'  at  me,  ye  know  —  'Martha!  with  a  fan  in 
'your  hand,  if  ye're  not  a  black-eyed  beauty  of  a  Spaniard, 
ye  little  devil  of  Seville ! '  says  he."  This  she  had  occa- 
sionally confided  to  the  ladies.  The  marital  eulogy  had 
touched  her,  and  she  was  not  a  woman  of  coldly-flowing 
blood,  she  had  an  excuse  for  the  constant  employment  of 
the  fan. 

"  And  well,  Mr.  Paricles  I  have  ye  got  nothin'  to  tell  us 


166  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

about  foreign  countesses  and  their  slips  ?  Because,  we  can 
listen,  sir,  garls  or  not.  Sure,  if  they  understand  ye,  ye 
teach  'em  nothin' ;  and  if  they  don't  understand  ye,  where's 
the  harm  done?  D'ye  see,  sir?  It's  clear  in  favour  of 
talkin'." 

Mr.  Pericles  administered  consolation  to  his  moustache  by 
twisting  it  into  long  waxy  points.  "  I  do  not  know ;  I  do 
not  know,"  he  put  her  away  with,  from  time  to  time.  In 
the  end  Mrs.  Chump  leaned  over  to  Arabella.  "Don't 
have  'm,  my  dear,"  she  murmured. 

"  You  mean ?  "  quoth  Arabella. 

"  Here's  the  driest  stick  that  aver  stood  without  sap." 

Arabella  flushed  when  she  took  the  implication  that  she 
was  looking  on  the  man  as  a  husband.  Adela  heard  the 
remarks,  and  flushed  likewise.  Mrs.  Chump  eyed  them 
both.  "It's  for  the  money  o'  the  man,"  she  soliloquized 
aloud,  as  her  fashion  was.  Adela  jumped  up,  and  with  an 
easy  sprightly  posture  of  her  fair,  commonly  studious  per- 
son, and  natural  run  of  notes :  "  Oh ! "  she  cried,  "  I  begin 
to  feel  what  it  is  to  be  like  a  live  fish  on  the  fire,  frying, 
frying,  frying !  and  if  he  can  keep  his  Christian  sentiments 
under  this  infliction,  what  a  wonderful  hero  he  must  be! 
What  a  hot  day ! " 

She  moved  swiftly  to  the  door,  and  flung  it  open.  A  sight 
met  her  eyes  at  which  she  lost  her  self-possession.  She 
started  back,  uttering  a  soft  cry. 

"Ah!  aha!  oh!"  went  the  bitter  ironic  drawl  of  Mr. 
Pericles,  whose  sharp  glance  had  caught  the  scene  as  well. 

Emilia  came  forward  with  a  face  like  sunset.  Diplo* 
macy,  under  the  form  of  Wilfrid  Pole,  kicked  its  heels  be- 
hind, and  said  a  word  or  two  in  a  tone  of  false  cheerfulness. 

"  Oh !  so !  "  Mr.  Pericles  frowned,  while  Emilia  held  her 
hand  out  to  him.  "Yeas!  You  are  quite  well?  H'm! 
You  are  burnt  like  a  bean — hein?  I  shall  ask  you  what 
you  have  been  doing,  by-and-by." 

Happily  for  decency,  Mrs.  Chump  had  not  participated  in 
the  fact  presented  by  ocular  demonstration.  She  turned 
about  comfortably  to  greet  Wilfrid,  uttering  the  inspired 
remark :  "  Ye  look  red  from  a  sly  kiss ! " 

"  For  one  ?  "  said  he,  sharpening  his  blunted  wits  on  this 
dull  instrument. 


RETUBN   OF   ME.   PERICLES  167 

The  ladies  talked  down  their  talk.  Then  Wilfrid  and 
Mr.  Pericles  interchanged  quasi  bows. 

"Oh,  if  he  doesn't  show  his  upper  teeth  like  an  angry 
cat,  or  a  leopard  I've  seen ! "  cried  Mrs.  Chump  in  Adela's 
ear,  designating  Mr.  Pericles.  "Does  he  know  Mr.  Wil- 
frud's  in  the  British  army,  and  a  new  lieuten't,  gazetted 
and  all  ?  " 

Mr.  Pericles  certainly  did  not  look  pleasantly  upon  Wil- 
frid :  Emilia  received  his  unconcealed  wrath  and  spite. 

"  Go  and  sing  a  note ! "  he  said. 

"  At  the  piano  ?  "  Emilia  quietly  asked. 

"  At  piano,  harp,  what  you  will  —  it  is  ze  voice  I  want." 

Emilia  pitched  her  note  high  from  a  full  chest  and  with 
glad  bright  eyes,  which  her  fair  critics  thought  just  one 
degree  brazen,  after  the  revelation  in  the  doorway. 

Mr.  Pericles  listened;  wearing  an  aching  expression,  as 
if  he  were  sending  one  eye  to  look  up  into  his  brain  for  a 
judgement  disputed  in  that  sovereign  seat. 

Still  she  held  on,  and  then  gave  a  tremulous,  rich,  con- 
tralto note. 

"  Oh  !  the  human  voice  ! "  cried  Adela,  overcome  by  the 
transition  of  tones. 

"  Like  going  from  the  nightingale  to  the  nightjar,"  said 
Arabella. 

Mrs.  Chump  remarked :  "  Ye'll  not  find  a  more  suscepti- 
ble woman  to  musuc  than  me." 

Wilfrid  looked  away.  Pride  coursed  through  his  veins 
in  a  torrent. 

When  the  voice  was  still,  Mr.  Pericles  remained  in  a  pon- 
dering posture. 

"  You  go  to  play  fool  with  zat  voice  in  Milano,  you  are 
flogged,"  he  cried  terribly,  shaking  his  forefinger. 

Wilfrid  faced  round  in  wrath,  but  Mr.  Pericles  would  not 
meet  his  challenge,  continuing:  "You  hear?  Sandra  Bel- 
loni,  you  hear  ?  —  so ! "  and  Mr.  Pericles  brought  the  palms 
of  his  hands  in  collision. 

"  Marcy,  man ! "  Mrs.  Chump  leaped  from  her  chair; 
"  d'ye  mean  that  those  horrud  forr'ners  '11  smack  a  fuli- 
grown  young  woman?  —  Don't  go  to  'm,  my  dear.  Now, 
take  my  'dvice,  little  Belloni,  and  don't  go.  It  isn't  the 
sting  o'  the  smack,  ye  know " 


168  EMILIA  IS  ENGLAND 

"  Shall  I  sing  anything  to  you  ?  "  Emilia  addressed  Mr. 
Pericles.  The  latter  shrugged  to  express  indifference. 
Nevertheless  she  sang.  She  had  never  sung  better.  Mr. 
Pericles  clutched  his  chin  in  one  hand,  elbow  on  knee.  The 
ladies  sighed  to  think  of  the  loss  of  homage  occasioned  by 
the  fact  of  so  few  being  present  to  hear  her.  Wilfrid  knew 
himself  the  fountain  of  it  all,  and  stood  fountain-like,  in  a 
shower  of  secret  adulation :  a  really  happy  fellow.  This : 
that  his  beloved  should  be  the  centre  of  eyes,  and  pro- 
nounced exquisite  by  general  approbation,  besides  subject- 
ing him  to  a  personal  spell :  this  was  what  he  wanted.  It 
was  mournful  to  think  that  Circumstance  had  not  at  the 
same  time  created  the  girl  of  noble  birth,  or  with  an  instinct 
for  spiritual  elegance.  But  the  world  is  imperfect. 

Presently  he  became  aware  that  she  was  understood  to  be 
singing  pointedly  to  him:  upon  which  he  dismissed  the 
council  of  his  sensations,  and  began  to  diplomatize  cleverly. 
Leaning  over  to  Adela,  he  whispered :  "  Pericles  wants  her 
to  go  to  Italy.  My  belief  is,  that  she  won't." 

"  And  why  ?  "  returned  Adela,  archly  reproachful. 

"  Well,  we've  been  spoiling  her  a  little,  perhaps.  I  mean, 
we  men,  of  course.  But,  I  really  don't  think  that  I'm 
chiefly  to  blame.  You  won't  allow  Captain  Gambier  to  be 
in  fault,  I  know." 

"Why  not?"  said  Adela. 

"  Well,  if  you  will,  then  he  is  the  principal  offender." 

Adela  acted  disbelief;  but,  unprepared  for  her  brother's 
perfectly  feminine  audacity  of  dissimulation,  she  thought: 
"  He  can't  be  in  earnest  about  the  girl,"  and  was  led  to 
fancy  that  Gambier  might,  and  to  determine  to  see  whether 
it  was  so. 

By  this  manoeuvre,  Wilfrid  prepared  for  himself  a  de- 
fender when  the  charge  was  brought  against  him. 

Mr.  Pericles  was  thunderstruck  on  hearing  Emilia  refuse 
to  go  to  Italy.  A  scene  of  tragic  denunciation  on  the  one 
hand,  and  stubborn  decision  on  the  other,  ensued. 

I*  I  shall  not  mind  zis  "  (he  spoke  of  Love  and  the  awak- 
ening of  the  female  heart)  "  not  when  you  are  trained.  It 
is  good,  zen,  and  you  have  fire  from  it.  But,  now !  little 
fool,  I  say,  it  is  too  airly  —  too  airly !  How  shall  you  learn 
—  eh  ?  with  your  brain  upon  a  man  ?  And  your  voice, 


RETURN  OF  MB.   PERICLES  169 

little  fool,  a  thing  of  caprice,  zat  comes  and  goes  us  lie  will, 
not  you  will.  Hein  ?  like  a  barrel-organ,  which  he  turns 
ze  handle.  —  Mon  Dieu!  Why  did  I  leave  her?"  Mr. 
Pericles  struck  his  brow  with  his  wrist,  clutching  at  the 
long  thin  slice  of  hair  that  did  greasy  duty  for  the  departed 
crop  on  his  poll.  "  Did  I  not  know  it  was  a  woman  ?  And 
so  you  are,  what  you  say,  in  lofe." 

Emilia  replied :  "  I  have  not  said  so,"  with  exasperating 
coolness. 

"  You  have  your  eye  on  a  man.  And  I  know  him,  zat 
man!  When  he  is  tired  of  you  —  whiff,  away  you  go,  a 
puff  of  smoke !  And  you  zat  I  should  make  a  Queen  of 
Opera !  A  Queen  ?  You  shall  have  more  rule  zan  twenty 
Queens  —  forty!  See"  (Mr.  Pericles  made  his  hand  go 
like  an  aspen-leaf  from  his  uplifted  wrist)  ;  "  so  you  shall 
•set  ze  hearts  of  sossands !  To  dream  of  you,  to  adore  you ! 
and  flowers,  flowers  everywhere,  on  your  head,  at  your  feet. 
You  choose  your  lofer  from  ze  world.  A  husband,  if  it  is 
your  taste.  Bose,  if  you  please.  Zen,  I  say,  you  shall,  you 
shall  lofe  a  man.  Let  him  tease  and  sting  —  ah!  it  will 
be  magnifique :  Aha !  ze  voice  will  sharpen,  go  deep ;  yeas ! 
to  be  a  tale  of  blood.  Lofe  till  you  could  stab  yourself :  — 
Brava !  But  now  ?  Little  fool,  I  say  ! " 

Emilia  believed  that  she  was  verily  forfeiting  an  empire. 
Her  face  wore  a  soft  look  of  delight.  This  renunciation  of 
a  splendid  destiny  for  Wilfrid's  sake  seemed  to  make  her 
worthier  of  him,  and  as  Mr.  Pericles  unrolled  the  list  of 
her  rejected  treasures,  her  bosom  heaved  without  a  regret. 

"  Ha !  "  Mr.  Pericles  flung  away  from  her :  "  go  and  be  a 
little  gutter-girl ! " 

The  musical  connoisseur  drew  on  his  own  disappointment 
alone  for  eloquence.  Had  he  been  thinking  of  her,  he 
might  have  touched  cunningly  on  her  love  for  Italy.  Music 
was  the  passion  of  the  man  ;  and  a  millionaire's  passion  is 
something  that  can  make  a  stir.  He  knew  that  in  Emilia 
he  had  discovered  a  pearl  of  song  rarely  to  be  fouud,  and 
his  object  was  to  polish  and  perfect  her  at  all  cost:  per- 
haps, as  a  secondary  and  far  removed  consideration,  to  point 
to  her  as  a  thing  belonging  to  him,  for  which  Emperors 
might  envy  him.  The  thought  of  losing  her  drove  him 
into  fits  of  rage.  He  took  the  ladies  one  by  one,  and  treated 


170  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

them  each  to  a  horrible  scene  of  gesticulation  and  outraged 
English.  He  accused  their  brother  of  conduct  which  they 
were  obliged  to  throw  (by  a  process  of  their  own)  into  the 
region  of  Fine  Shades,  before  they  dared  venture  to  com- 
prehend him.  Gross  facts  in  relationship  with  the  voice, 
this  grievous  "  machine,  not  man,"  —  as  they  said  —  stated 
to  them,  harshly,  impetuously.  The  ladies  felt  that  he  had 
bored  their  ears  with  hot  iron  pins.  Adela  tried  laughter 
as  a  defence  from  his  suggestion  against  Wilfrid,  but  had 
shortly  afterwards  to  fly  from  the  fearful  anatomist.  She 
served  her  brother  thoroughly  in  the  Council  of  Three ;  so 
that  Mr.  Pericles  was  led  by  them  to  trust  that  there  had 
been  mere  fooling  in  his  absence,  and  that  the  emotions  he 
looked  to  as  the  triumphant  reserve  in  Emilia's  bosom,  to 
be  aroused  at  some  crisis  when  she  was  before  the  world, 
slumbered  still.  She,  on  her  part,  contrasting  her  own 
burning  sensations  with  this  quaint,  innocent  devotion  to 
Art  and  passion  for  music,  felt  in  a  manner  guilty ;  and 
whenever  he  stormed  with  additional  violence,  she  became 
suppliant,  and  seemed  to  bend  and  have  regrets.  Mr.  Peri- 
cles would  then  say,  with  mollified  irritability :  "  You  will 
come  to  Italy  to-morrow  ?  —  ze  day  after  ?  —  not  at  all  ?  " 
The  last  was  given  with  a  roar,  for  lack  of  her  immediate 
response.  Emilia  would  find  a  tear  on  her  eyelids  at  times. 
Surround  herself  as  she  might  with  her  illusions,  she  had 
no  resting-place  in  Wilfrid's  heart,  and  knew  it.  She  knew 
it  as  the  young  know  that  they  are  to  die  on  a  future  day, 
without  feeling  the  sadness  of  it,  but  with  a  dimly  preva- 
lent idea  that  this  life  is  therefore  incomplete.  And  again 
her  blood,  as  with  a  wave  of  rich  emotion,  washed  out  th*» 
blank  spot.  She  thought:  "What  can  he  want  but  my 
love  ?  "  And  thus  she  satisfied  her  own  hungry  question- 
ing by  seeming  to  supply  an  answer  to  his. 

The  ladies  of  Brookfield  by  no  means  encouraged  Emilia 
to  refuse  the  generous  offer  of  Mr.  Pericles.  They  thought, 
too,  that  she  might  —  might  she  ?  Oh !  certainly  she  might 
go  to  Italv  under  his  protection.  "  Would  you  let  one  of 
vour  blood  ?  "  asked  Wilfrid,  brutally.  With  some  cunning 
he  led  them  to  admit  that  Emilia's  parents  should  rightly 
be  consulted  in  such  a  case. 

One  day  Mr.  Pericles  said  to  the  ladies  :  "  I  shall  give  a 


RETURN  OP  MR.   PERICLES  171 

f Ste :  a  party  monstre.  In  ze  air :  on  grass.  I  beg  you  to 
invite  friends  of  yours." 

Before  the  excogitation  of  this  splendid  resolve,  he  had 
been  observed  to  wear  for  some  period  a  conspiratorial  as- 
pect. When  it  was  delivered,  and  Arabella  had  undertaken 
the  management  of  the  "  party  monstre  "  —  (which  was  to 
be  on  Besworth  Lawn,  and,  as  it  was  not  their  own  party, 
could  be  conducted  with  a  sort  of  quasi-contemptuous  su- 
periority to  incongruous  gatherings)  —  this  being  settled, 
the  forehead  of  Mr.  Pericles  cleared,  and  he  ceased  to  per- 
secute Emilia. 

"I  am  not  one  that  is  wopped,"he  said  significantly;  nod- 
ding to  his  English  hearers,  as  if  this  piece  of  shrewd 
acquaintance  with  the  expressive  mysteries  of  their  lan- 
guage placed  them  upon  equal  terms. 

It  was  really  'a  providential  thing'  (as  devout  people 
phrase  it)  that  Laura  Tinley  and  Mabel  Copley  should  call 
shortly  alter  this,  and  invite  the  ladies  to  a  proposed  picnic 
of  theirs  on  Besworth  Lawn.  On  Besworth  Lawn,  of  all 
places !  and  they  used  the  word  '  picnic.' 

"A  word  suggestive  of  gnawed  drumstick  and  ginger- 
beer  bottles."  Adela  quoted  some  scapegoat  of  her  acquaint- 
ance, as  her  way  was  when  she  wished  to  be  pungent  without 
incurring  the  cold  sisterly  eye  of  reproof  for  a  vulgarism. 

Both  Laura  and  Mabel,  when  they  heard  of  the  mighty 
entertainment  fixed  for  Besworth  Lawn  by  Mr.  Pericles, 
looked  down.  They  were  invited,  and  looked  up.  There 
was  the  usual  amount  of  fencing  with  the  combative  Laura, 
who  gave  ground  at  all  points,  and  as  she  was  separating,  said 
(so  sweetly  !)  "  Of  course  you  have  heard  of  the  arrest  of  your 
—  what  does  one  call  him  ?  —  friend  ?  —  or  a  French  word  ?  " 

"  You  mean ?  "  quoth  Arabella. 

"That  poor,  neatly-brushed,  nice  creature  whom  you 
patronized — who  played  the  organ!"  she  jerked  to  Ara- 
bella's dubious  eyes. 

"  And  he  ?  "  Arabella  smiled  complacently. 

"Then  perhaps  you  may  know  that  all  is  arranged  for 
him  ?  "  said  Laura,  interpreting  by  the  look  more  than  the 
word,  after  a  habit  of  women. 

"Indeed,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  know  nothing,"  said 
Arabella. 


172  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"  Really  ?  "  Laura  turned  sharply  to  Cornelia,  who  met 
her  eyes  and  did  not  exhibit  one  weak  dimple. 

The  story  was,  that  Mr.  Chips,  the  bookseller  of  Hillf  ord, 
objected  to  the  departure  of  Mr.  Barrett,  until  Mr.  Barrett 
had  paid  the  bill  of  Mr.  Chips :  and  had  signified  his  objection 
in  *;he  form  of  a  writ.  "  When,  if  you  know  anything  of 
law,"  said  Laura,  "you  will  see  why  he  remains.  For,  a 
writ  once  served,  you  are  a  prisoner.  That  is,  I  believe,  if 
it's  above  twenty  pounds.  And  Mr.  Chips'  bill  against 
Mr.  Barrett  was,  I  have  heard,  twenty-three  pounds  and  odd 
shillings.  Could  anything  be  more  preposterous?  And 
Mr.  Chips  deserves  to  lose  his  money ! " 

Ah !  to  soar  out  of  such  a  set  as  this,  of  which  Laura  Tinley 
is  a  sample,  are  not  some  trifling  acts  of  inhumanity  and 
practices  in  the  art  of  '  cutting '  permissible  ?  So  the  ladies 
had  often  asked  of  the  Unseen  in  their  onward  course,  if 
they  did  not  pointedly  put  the  question  now.  Surely  they 
had  no  desire  to  give  pain,  but  the  nature  that  endowed  them 
Vith  a  delicate  taste,  inspired  them  to  defend  it.  They 
listened  gravely  to  Laura,  who  related  that  not  only  English 
books,  but  foreign  (repeated  and  emphasized),  had  been 
supplied  by  Mr.  Chips  to  Mr.  Barrett. 

They  were  in  the  library,  and  Laura's  eyes  rested  on  cer- 
tain yellow  and  blue  covers  of  books  certainly  not  designed 
for  the  reading  of  Mr.  Pole. 

"  I  think  you  must  be  wrong  as  to  Mr.  Barrett's  position," 
said  Adela. 

"No,  dear;  not  at  all,"  Laura  was  quick  to  reply.  "  Un- 
less you  knoio  anything.  He  has  stated  that  he  awaits  money 
remittances.  He  has,  in  fact,  overrun  the  constable,  and  my 
brother  Albert  says,  the  constable  is  very  likely  to  overrun 
Mm,  in  consequence.  Only  a  joke !  But  an  organist  with,  at 
the  highest  computation  —  poor  absurd  thing!  —  fifty-five 
pounds  per  annum  :  additional  for  singing  lessons,  it  is  true, 
—  but  an  organist  with  a  bookseller's  bill  of  twenty-three 
pounds !  Consider !  " 

"Foreign  books,  too!"  interjected  Adela. 

"  Not  so  particularly  improving  to  his  morals,  either ! " 
added  Laura. 

"  You  are  severe  upon  the  greater  part  of  the  human  race," 
said  Arabella. 


THE  PITFALL  OP  SENTIMENT  173 

"  So  are  the  preachers,  dear,"  returned  Laura. 

"  The  men  of  our  religion  justify  you  ?  "  asked  Arabella. 

"  Let  me  see ;  —  where  were  we  ?  "  Laura  retreated  in  an 
affected  mystification. 

"  You  had  reached  the  enlightened  belief  that  books  written 
by  any  but  English  hands  were  necessarily  destructive  of 
men's  innocence,"  said  Arabella ;  and  her  sisters  thrilled  at 
the  neatness  of  the  stroke,  for  the  moment,  while  they  forgot 
the  ignoble  object  it  transfixed.  Laura  was  sufficiently  foiled 
by  it  to  be  unable  to  return  to  the  Chips-Barrett  theme. 
Throughout  the  interview  Cornelia  had  maintained  a  trium- 
phant posture,  superior  to  Arabella's  skill  in  fencing,  seeing 
that  it  exposed  no  weak  point  of  the  defence  by  making  an 
attack,  and  concealed  especially  the  confession  implied  by  a 
relish  for  the  conflict.  Her  sisters  considerately  left  her  to 
recover  herself,  after  this  mighty  exercise  of  silence. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE   PITFALL   OF   SENTIMENT 

CORNELIA  sat  with  a  clenched  hand.  "  You  are  rich  and  he 
is  poor,"  was  the  keynote  of  her  thoughts,  repeated  from 
minute  to  minute.  "  And  it  is  gold  gives  you  the  right  in  the 
world's  eye  to  despise  him  !  "  she  apostrophized  the  vanished 
Laura,  clothing  gold  with  all  the  baseness  of  that  person. 
Now,  when  one  really  hates  gold,  one  is  at  war  with  one';: 
fellows.  The  tide  sets  that  way.  There  is  no  compromise  • 
to  hate  it  is  to  try  to  stem  the  flood.  It  happens  that  this  is 
one  of  the  temptations  of  the  sentimentalist,  who  should  re- 
flect, but  does  not,  that  the  fine  feelers  by  which  the  iniqui- 
ties of  gold  are  so  keenly  discerned,  are  a  growth  due  to  it, 
nevertheless.  Those  '  fine  feelers,'  or  antennae  of  the  senses, 
come  of  sweet  ease ;  that  is  synonymous  with  gold  in  our 
island-latitude.  The  sentimentalists  are  represented  by  them 
among  the  civilized  species.  It  is  they  that  sensitively  touch 
and  reject,  touch  and  select ;  whereby  the  laws  of  the  polite 
world  are  ultimately  regulated,  and  civilization  continually 


174  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

advanced,  sometimes  ridiculously.  The  sentimentalists  are 
ahead  of  us,  not  by  weight  of  brain,  but  through  delicacy  of 
nerve,  and,  like  all  creatures  in  the  front,  they  are  open  to 
be  victims.  I  pray  you  to  observe  again  the  shrinking  life 
that  afflicts  the  adventurous  horns  of  the  snail,  for  example. 
Such  are  the  sentimentalists  to  us — the  fat  body  of  mankind. 
We  owe  them  much,  and  though  they  scorn  us,  let  us  pity 
them. 

Especially  when  they  are  young  they  deserve  pity,  for  they 
suffer  cruelly.  I  for  my  part  prefer  to  see  boys  and  girls  led 
into  the  ways  of  life  by  nature ;  but  I  admit  that  in  many 
cases,  in  most  cases,  our  good  mother  has  not  (occupied  as 
her  hands  must  be)  made  them  perfectly  presentable ;  by 
which  fact  I  am  warned  to  have  tolerance  for  the  finer 
beings  who  labour  under  these  excessive  sensual  subtleties. 
I  perceive  their  uses.  And  they  are  right  good  comedy ;  for 
which  I  may  say  that  I  almost  love  them.  Man  is  the 
laughing  animal :  and  at  the  end  of  an  infinite  search,  the 
philosopher  finds  himself  clinging  to  laughter  as  the  best  of 
human  fruit,  purely  human,  and  sane,  and  comforting.  So 
let  us  be  cordially  thankful  to  those  who  furnish  matter  for 
sound  embracing  laughter. 

Cornelia  detested  gold  —  entirely  on  general  grounds  and 
for  abstract  reasons.  Not  a  word  of  Mr.  Barrett  was  shaped, 
even  in  fancy;  but  she  interjected  to  herself,  with  medita- 
tive eye  and  mouth :  "  The  saints  were  poor ! "  (the  saints  of 
whom  he  had  read,  translating  from  that  old  Latin  book)  — 
"  St.  Francis !  how  divine  was  his  life ! "  and  so  forth,  until 
the  figure  of  Mr.  Penniless  Barrett  walked  out  in  her  imagi- 
nation clad  in  saintly  garments,  superior  not  only  to  his 
creditor,  Mr.  Chips,  but  to  all  who  bought  or  sold. 

[  have  been  false,"  she  said;  implying  the  "to  him." 
Seeing  him  on  that  radiant  height  above  her,  she  thought : 

How  could  I  have  fallen  so  ?  "  It  was  impossible  for  her 
mind  to  recover  the  delusion  which  had  prompted  her  sign- 
ing herself  to  bondage  —  pledging  her  hand  to  a  man  she 

d  not  love.  Could  it  have  been  that  she  was  guilty  of  the 
immense  folly,  simply  to  escape  from  that  piece  of  coarse 
earth,  Mrs.  Chump  ?  Cornelia  smiled  sadly,  saying :  "  Oh, 
no !  I  should  not  have  committed  a  wickedness  for  so  miser- 
able an  object."  Despairing  for  a  solution  of  the  puzzle,  she 


THE  PITFALL  OF  SENTIMENT  175 

cried  out,  "  I  was  mad ! "  and  with  a  gasp  of  horror  saw  her- 
self madly  signing  her  name  to  perdition. 

'  I  was  mad ! '  is  a  comfortable  cloak  to  our  sins  in  the 
past.  Mournful  to  think  that  we  have  been  bereft  of  reason ; 
but  the  fit  is  over,  and  we  are  not  in  Bedlam ! 

Cornelia  next  wrestled  with  the  pride  of  Mr.  Barrett. 
Why  had  he  not  come  to  her  once  after  reading  the  line  pen- 
cilled in  the  book  ?  Was  it  that  he  would  make  her  his 
debtor  in  everything  ?  He  could  have  reproached  her  justly ; 
why  had  he  held  aloof?  She  thirsted  to  be  scourged  by 
him,  to  hang  her  head  ashamed  under  his  glance,  and  hug 
the  bitter  pain  he  dealt  her.  Revolving  how  the  worst  man 
on  earth  would  have  behaved  to  a  girl  partially  in  his  power 
(hands  had  been  permitted  to  be  pressed,  and  the  gateways 
of  the  eyes  had  stood  open :  all  but  vows  had  been  inter- 
changed), she  came  to  regard  Mr.  Barrett  as  the  best  man  on 
the  earth.  That  she  alone  saw  it,  did  not  depreciate  the 
value  of  her  knowledge.  A  goal  gloriously  illumined  blazed 
on  her  from  the  distance.  '  Too  late ! '  she  put  a  curb  on  the 
hot  coursers  in  her  brain,  and  they  being  checked,  turned  all 
at  once  to  tears  and  came  in  a  flood.  How  indignant  would 
the  fair  sentimentalist  have  been  at  a  whisper  of  her  caring 
for  the  thing  before  it  was  too  late ! 

Cornelia  now  daily  trod  the  red  pathways  under  the  firs, 
and  really  imagined  herself  to  be  surprised,  even  vexed, 
when  she  met  Mr.  Barrett  there  at  last.  Emilia  was  by  his 
side,  near  a  drooping  birch.  She  beckoned  to  Cornelia,  whose 
North  Pole  armour  was  doing  its  best  to  keep  down  a  thump- 
ing heart. 

"  We  are  taking  our  last  walk  in  the  old  wood,"  said 
Mr.  Barrett,  admirably  collected.  "  That  is,  I  must  speak 
for  myself." 

"  You  leave  early  ? "  Cornelia  felt  her  throat  rattle 
hideously. 

"  In  two  days,  I  expect  —  I  hope,"  said  he. 

"  Why  does  he  hope  ?  "  thought  Cornelia,  wounded,  until 
a  vision  of  the  detaining  Chips  struck  her  with  pity  and 
remorse. 

She  turned  to  Emilia.  "  Our  dear  child  is  also  going  to 
leave  us." 

"I?  "  cried  Emilia,  fierily  out  of  languor. 


176  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"  Does  not  your  Italy  claim  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  nothing  to  Italy  any  more.  Have  I  not  said  so  ? 
I  love  England  now." 

Cornelia  smiled  complacently.  "  Let  us  hope  your  heart 
i?  capacious  enough  to  love  both." 

"  Then  your  theory  is "  (Mr.  Barrett  addressed  Cornelia 
in  the  winning  old  style),  "that  the  love  of  one  thing 
enlarges  the  heart  for  anotner  ?  " 

"  Should  it  not  ?  "  She  admired  his  cruel  self-possession 
pitiably,  as  she  contrasted  her  own  husky  tones  with  it. 

Emilia  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  fancying  that  they 
must  have  her  case  somewhere  in  prospect,  since  none  could 
be  unconscious  of  the  vehement  struggle  going  on  in  her 
bosom;  but  they  went  farther  and  farther  off  from  her 
comprehension,  and  seemed  to  speak  of  bloodless  matters. 
"  And  yet  he  is  her  lover,"  she  thought.  "  When  they  meet 
they  talk  across  a  river,  and  he  knows  she  is  going  to  an- 
other man,  and  does  not  gripe  her  wrist  and  drag  her  away  !  " 
The  sense  that  she  had  no  kinship  with  such  flesh  shut  her 
mouth  faster  than  Wilfrid's  injunctions  (which  were  ordi- 
narily conveyed  in  too  subtle  a  manner  for  her  to  feel  their 
meaning  enough  to  find  them  binding).  Cornelia,  for  a 
mask  to  her  emotions,  gave  Emilia  a  gentle,  albeit  high- 
worded  lecture  on  the  artist's  duty  toward  Art,  quoting 
favourite  passages  from  Mr.  Barrett's  favourite  Art-critic. 
And  her  fashion  of  dropping  her  voice  as  she  declaimed  the 
more  dictatorial  sentences  (to  imply,  one  might  guess,  by  a 
show  of  personal  humility  that  she  would  have  you  to  know 
her  preaching  was  vicarious ;  that  she  stood  humbly  in  the 
pulpit,  and  was  but  a  vessel  for  the  delivery  of  the  burden 
of  the  oracle),  all  this  was  beautiful  to  him  who  could  see 
it.  I  cannot  think  it  was  wholesome  for  him;  nor  that 
Cornelia  was  unaware  of  a  naughty  wish  to  glitter  tempo- 
rarily in  the  eyes  of  the  man  who  made  her  feel  humble. 
The  sorcery  she  sent  through  his  blood  communicated  itself 
to  hers.  When  she  had  done,  Emilia,  convincedly  van- 
quished by  big  words,  said,  "I  cannot  talk,"  and  turned 
heavily  from  them  without  bestowing  a  smile  upon 
either. 

Cornelia  believed  that  the  girl  would  turn  back  as  abruptly 
as  she  had  retreated;  and  it  was  not  until  Emilia  was  out  of 


THE  PITFALL  OF  SENTIMENT  177 

aight  that  she  remembered  the  impropriety  of  being  alone 
with  Mr.  Barrett.  The  Pitfall  of  Sentiment  yawned  visible, 
but  this  lady's  strength  had  been  too  little  tried  for  her  to 
lack  absolute  faith  in  it.  So,  out  of  deep  silences,  the  two 
leapt  to  speech  and  immediately  subsided  to  the  depths 
again :  as  on  a  sultry  summer's  day  fishes  flash  their  tails  in 
the  sunlight  and  leave  a  solitary  circle  widening  on  the 
water. 

Then  Cornelia  knew  what  was  coming.  In  set  phrase, 
and  as  one  who  performs  a  duty  frigidly  pleasant,  he  con- 
gratulated her  on  her  rumoured  union.  One  hand  was  in 
his  buttoned  coat ;  the  other  hung  elegantly  loose :  not  a 
feature  betrayed  emotion.  He  might  have  spoken  it  in  a 
ballroom.  To  Cornelia,  who  exulted  in  self-compression, 
after  the  Roman  method,  it  was  more  dangerous  than  a 
tremulous  tone. 

"  You  know  me  too  well  to  say  this,  Mr.  Barrett." 

The  words  would  come.  She  preserved  her  steadfast  air, 
when  they  had  escaped,  to  conceal  her  shame.  Seeing  thus 
much,  he  took  it  to  mean  that  it  was  a  time  for  plain-speak- 
ing. To  what  end,  he  did  not  ask. 

"  You  have  not  to  be  told  that  I  desire  your  happiness 
above  all  earthly  things,"  he  said :  and  the  lady  shrank 
back,  and  made  an  effort  to  recover  her  footing.  Had  he 
not  been  so  careful  to  obliterate  any  badge  of  the  Squire  of 
low  degree,  at  his  elbows,  cuffs,  collar,  kneecap,  and  head- 
piece, she  might  have  achieved  it  with  better  success.  For 
cynicism  (the  younger  brother  of  sentiment  and  inheritor  of 
the  family  property)  is  always  on  the  watch  to  deal  fatal 
blows  through  such  vital  parts  as  the  hat  or  the  H's,  or 
indeed  any  sign  of  inferior  estate.  But  Mr.  Barrett  was 
armed  at  all  points  by  a  consummate  education  and  a  most 
serviceable  clothes-brush. 

"  You  know  how  I  love  this  neighbourhood ! "  said  she. 

"  And  I !  above  all  that  I  have  known ! " 

They  left  the  pathway  and  walked  on  mosses  —  soft  yel- 
low beds,  run  over  with  grey  lichen,  and  plots  of  emerald  in 
the  midst. 

"You  will  not  fall  off  with  your  reading?"  he  recom- 
menced. 
,    She  answered  "  Yes,"  meaning  "  No ; "  and  corrected  the 


178  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

error  languidly,  thinking  one  of  the  weighty  monosyllables 
as  good  as  the  other :  for  what  was  reading  to  her  now  ? 

"  It  would  be  ten  thousand  pities  if  you  were  to  do  as  so 
many  women  do,  when  .  .  .  when  they  make  these  great 
changes  ?  "  he  continued. 

"  Of  what  avail  is  the  improvement  of  the  mind  ? "  she 
said,  and  followed  his  stumble  over  the  "  when,"  and  dropped 
on  it. 

"Of  what  avail!  Is  marriage  to  stop  your  intellectual 
growth?" 

"  Without  sympathy,"  she  faltered,  and  was  shocked  at 
what  she  said ;  but  it  seemed  a  necessity. 

"  You  must  learn  to  conquer  the  need  for  it." 

Alas  1  his  admonition  only  made  her  feel  the  need  more 
cravingly. 

"  Promise  me  one  thing,"  he  said.  "  You  will  not  fall  into 
the  rut  ?  Let  me  keep  the  ideal  you  have  given  me.  For 
the  sake  of  heaven,  do  not  cloud  for  me  the  one  bright  image 
I  hold !  Let  me  know  always  that  you  are  growing,  and  that 
the  pure,  noble  intelligence  which  distinguishes  you  ad- 
vances, and  will  not  be  subdued." 

Cornelia  smiled  faintly.  "  You  have  judged  me  too  gener- 
ously, Mr.  Barrett." 

"  Too  little  so !  might  I  tell  you ! "  He  stopped  short, 

and  she  felt  the  silence  like  a  great  wave  sweeping  over  her. 

They  were  nearing  the  lake,  with  the  stump  of  the  pollard- 
willow  in  sight,  and  toward  it  they  went. 

"  I  shall  take  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  I  shall  hear 
of  you,  some  day,"  she  said,  having  recourse  to  a  look  of 
cheerfulness. 

He  knew  her  to  allude  to  certain  hopes  of  fame.  "  I  am 
getting  wiser,  I  fear  —  too  wise  for  ambition ! " 

"  That  is  a  fallacy,  a  sophism." 

He  pointed  to  the  hollow  tree.  "Is  there  promise  of  fruit 
from  that?" 

"  You  .  .  .  you  are  young,  Mr.  Barrett." 

"  And  on  a  young  forehead  it  may  be  written,  «  Come  not  to 
ncAer  more.' " 

Cornelia  put  her  hand  out :  "  Oh,  Mr.  Barrett !  unsay  it ! " 
The  nakedness  of  her  spirit  stood  forth  in  a  stinging  tear. 
"  The  words  were  cruel." 


THE  PITFALL  OF   SENTIMENT  179 

"  But,  if  they  live,  and  are  ?  " 

"I  feel  that  you  must  misjudge  me.  When  I  wrote 
them  .  .  .  you  cannot  know !  The  misery  of  our  domestic 
life  was  so  bitter !  And  yet,  I  have  no  excuse,  none  !  I  can 
only  ask  for  pity." 

"  And  if  you  are  wretched,  must  not  I  be  ?  You  pluck 
from  me  my  last  support.  This,  I  petitioned  Providence  to 
hear  from  you  —  that  you  would  be  happy  !  I  can  have  no 
comfort  but  in  that." 

"  Happy !  "  Cornelia  murmured  the  word  musically,  as  if 
to  suck  an  irony  from  the  sweetness  of  the  sound.  "  Are  we 
made  for  happiness  ?  " 

Mr.  Barrett  quoted  the  favourite  sage,  concluding :  "  But  a 
brilliant  home  and  high  social  duties  bring  consolation.  I  do 
Acknowledge  that  an  eminent  station  will  not  only  be  graced 
by  you,  but  that  you  give  the  impression  of  being  born  to 
occupy  it.  It  is  your  destiny." 

"  A  miserable  destiny ! " 

It  pleased  Cornelia  to  become  the  wilful  child  who  quarrels 
with  its  tutor's  teachings,  upon  this  point. 

Then  Mr.  Barrett  said  quickly :  "  Your  heart  is  not  in 
ihis  union  ?  " 

"  Can  you  ask  ?     I  have  done  my  duty." 

"  Have  you,  indeed !  " 

His  tone  was  severe  in  the  deliberation  of  its  accents. 

Was  it  her  duty  to  live  an  incomplete  life  ?  He  gave  her 
j,  definition  of  personal  duty,  and  shadowed  out  all  her  own 
'ideas  on  the  subject;  seeming  thus  to  speak  terrible,  un- 
answerable truth. 

As  one  who  changes  the  theme,  he  said  :  "  I  have  forborne 
to  revert  to  myself  in  our  interviews ;  they  were  too  divine 
tor  that.  You  will  always  remember  that  I  have  forborne 
much." 

"  Yes ! "  She  was  willing  at  the  instant  to  confess  how 
jauch. 

"  And  if  I  speak  now,  I  shall  not  be  misinterpreted  ?  " 

"  You  never  would  have  been,  by  me." 

"  Cornelia ! " 

Though  she  knew  what  was  behind  the  door,  this  flinging 
of  it  open  with  her  name  startled  the  lady ;  and  if  he  had 
faltered,  it  would  not  have  been  well  for  him.  But,  plainly, 


180  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

he  claimed  the  right  to  call  her  by  her  Christian  name.  She 
admitted  it ;  and  thenceforward  they  were  equals. 

It  was  an  odd  story  that  he  told  of  himself.  She  could  not 
have  repeated  it  to  make  it  comprehensible.  She  drank  at 
every  sentence,  getting  no  more  from  it  than  the  gratification 
of  her  thirst.  His  father,  at  least,  was  a  man  of  title,  a 
baronet.  What  was  meant  by  estates  not  entailed  ?  What 
wild  freak  of  fate  put  this  noble  young  man  in  the  power  of 
an  eccentric  parent,  who  now  caressed  him,  now  made  him 
an  outcast  ?  She  heard  of  the  sum  that  was  his,  coming 
from  his  dead  mother  to  support  him  —  just  one  hundred 
pounds  annual !  Was  ever  fate  so  mournful  ? 

Practically,  she  understood  that  if  Mr.  Barrett  would 
write  to  his  father,  pledging  himself  to  conform  to  his  mys- 
terious despotic  will  in  something,  he  would  be  pardoned 
and  reinstated. 

He  concluded :  "  Hitherto  I  have  preferred  poverty.  You 
have  taught  me  at  what  a  cost !  Is  it  too  late  ?  " 

The  fall  of  his  voice,  with  the  repetition  of  her  name, 
seemed  as  if  awakening  her,  but  not  in  a  land  of  reason. 

"  Why  .  .  .  why ! "  she  whispered. 

"Beloved?" 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  before  ?  " 

"  Do  you  upbraid  me  ?  " 

"Oh,  no!  Oh,  never!"  she  felt  his  hand  taking  hers 
gently.  "My  friend,"  she  said,  half  in  self-defence;  and 
they,  who  had  never  kissed  as  lovers,  kissed  under  the  plea 
of  friendship. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

WILFRID    DIPLOMATIZES 


ALL  Wilfrid's  diplomacy  was  now  brought  into  play  to 

baffle  Mr.  Pericles,  inspire  Emilia  with  the  spirit  of  secresy, 

and  carry  on  his  engagement  to  two  women  to  their  common 

itisfaction.    Adela,  whose  penetration  he  dreaded  most,  he 

had  removed  by  a  nattering  invitation  to  Stornley ;  and  that 

lia  might  be  occupied  during  his  absences,  and  Mr. 


WILFRID   DIPLOMATIZES  181 

Pericles  thrown  on  a  false  scent,  he  persuaded  Tracy 
Eunningbrook  to  come  to  Brookfield,  and  write  libretti  for 
Emilia's  operas.  The  two  would  sit  down  together  for  an 
hour,  drawing  wonderful  precocious  noses  upon  juvenile 
visages,  when  Emilia  would  sigh  and  say :  "  I  can't  work ! " 
—  Tracy  adding,  with  resignation:  "I  never  can!"  At 
first  Mr.  Pericles  dogged  them  assiduously.  After  a  little 
while  he  shrugged,  remarking:  "It  is  a  nonsense." 

They  were,  however,  perfectly  serious  about  the  produc- 
tion of  an  opera,  Tracy  furnishing  verse  to  Emilia's  music. 
He  wrote  with  extraordinary  rapidity,  but  clung  to  graphic 
phrases,  that  were  not  always  supple  enough  for  nuptials 
with  modulated  notes.  Then  Emilia  had  to  hit  his  sense  of 
humour  by  giving  the  words  as  they  came  in  the  run  of  the 
song.  "  You  make  me  crow,  or  I  croak,"  she  said. 

"  The  woman  follows  the  man,  and  music  fits  to  verse," 
cried  Tracy.  "  Music's  the  vine,  verse  the  tree." 

Emilia  meditated.  "  Not  if  they  grow  up  together,"  she 
suggested,  and  broke  into  a  smile  at  his  rapture  of  amuse- 
ment; which  was  succeeded  by  a  dark  perplexity,  worthy 
of  the  present  aspect  of  Mr.  Pericles. 

"That's  what  has  upset  us,"  he  said.  "We  have  been 
trying  to  '  grow  up  together,'  like  first-cousins,  and  nature 
forbids  the  banns.  To-morrow  you  shall  have  half  a  libretto. 
And  then,  really,  my  child,  you  must  adapt  yourself  to  the 
words." 

"I  will,"  Emilia  promised;  "only,  not  if  they're  like 
iron  to  the  teeth." 

"My  belief  is,"  said  Tracy  savagely,  "that  music's  a 
fashion,  and  as  delusive  a  growth  as  Cobbett's  potatoes, 
which  will  go  back  to  the  deadly  nightshade,  just  as  music 
will  go  back  to  the  tom-tom." 

"  What  have  you  called  out  when  I  sang  to  you ! "  Emilia 
reproached  him  for  this  irreverent  nonsense. 

"  Oh !  it  was  you  and  not  the  music,"  he  returned  half- 
cajolingly,  while  he  beat  the  tom-tom  on  air. 

"  Hark  here ! "  cried  Emilia.  She  recited  a  verse. 
"Doesn't  that  sound  dead?  Now  hark!"  She  sang  the 
verse,  and  looked  confidently  for  Tracy's  verdict  at  the 
close. 

"  What  a  girl  that  is ! "    He  went  about  the  house,  raving 


182  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

of  her  to  everybody,  with  sundry  Gallic  interjections ;  until 
Mrs.  Chump  said :  "  'Deed,  sir,  ye  don't  seem  to  have  much 
idea  of  a  woman's  feelin's." 

Tracy  produced  in  a  night  two  sketches  of  libretti  for 
Emilia  to  choose  from  —  the  Roman  Clelia  being  one,  and 
Camillus  the  other.  Tracy  praised  either  impartially,  and 
was  indifferent  between  them,  he  told  her.  Clelia  offered 
the  better  theme  for  passionate  song,  but  there  was  a  win- 
ning political  object  and  rebuff  to  be  given  to  Radicalism  in 
Camillus.  "  Think  of  Rome ! "  he  said. 

Emilia  gave  the  vote  for  Camillus,  beginning  forthwith  to 
hum,  with  visions  of  a  long  roll  of  swarthy  cavalry,  headed 
by  a  clear-eyed  young  chief,  sunlight  perching  on  his  helm. 

"  Yes ;  but  you  don't  think  of  the  situations  in  Clelia,  and 
what  I  can  do  with  her,"  snapped  Tracy.  "I  see  a  song 
there  that  would  light  up  all  London.  Unfortunately,  the 
sentiment's  dead  Radical.  It  wouldn't  so  much  matter  if 
we  were  certain  to  do  Camillus  as  well;  because  one  would 
act  as  a  counterpoise  to  the  other,  you  know.  Well,  follow 
your  own  fancy.  Camillus  is  strictly  classical.  I  treat 
opera  there  as  Alfieri  conceived  tragedy.  Clelia  is  modern 
style.  Cast  the  die  for  Camillus,  and  let's  take  horse. 
Only,  we  lose  the  love-business  —  exactly  where  I  show 
my  strength.  Clelia  in  the  camp  of  the  king:  dactyllic 
chorus-accompaniment,  while  she,  in  heavy  voluptuous  ana- 
paests, confesses  her  love  for  the  enemy  of  her  country. 
Remember,  this  is  our  romantic  opera,  where  we  do  what 
we  like  with  History,  and  make  up  our  minds  for  asses 
telling  us  to  go  home  and  read  our  'Student's  Rome.' 
Then  that  scene  where  she  and  the  king  dance  the  dactyls, 
and  the  anapaests  go  to  the  chorus.  Sublime!  Let's  go 
into  the  woods  and  begin.  We  might  give  the  first  song 
or  two  to-night.  In  composition,  mind,  always  strike  out 
your  great  scene,  and  work  from  it  —  don't  work  up  to  it, 
or  you've  lost  fire  when  you  reach  the  point.  That's  my 
method." 

They  ran  into  the  woods,  skipping  like  schoolboy  and 
schoolgirl.  On  hearing  that  Camillus  would  not  be  per- 
mitted to  love  other  than  his  ungrateful  country,  Emilia's 
conception  of  the  Roman  lord  grew  pale,  and  a  controversy 
ensued  —  she  maintaining  that  a  great  hero  must  love  a 


WILFRID  DIPLOMATIZES  183 

woman;  he  declaring  that  a  great  heto  might  love  a  dozen, 
but  that  it  was  beneath  the  dignity  of  this  drama  to  allow 
of  a  rival  to  Rome  in  Cainillus's  love. 

"  He  will  not  do  for  music,"  said  Emilia,  firmly,  and  was 
immovable.  In  despair,  Tracy  proposed  attaching  a  lanky 
barbarian  daughter  to  Brennus,  whose  deeds  of  arms  should 
provoke  the  admiration  of  the  Roman. 

"  And  so  we  relinquish  Alfieri  for  Florian !  There's  a 
sentimental  burlesque  at  once ! "  the  youth  ejaculated,  in 
gloom.  "  I  chose  this  subject  entirely  to  give  you  Rome 
for  a  theme." 

Emilia  took  his  hand.  "  I  do  thank  you.  If  Brennus 
has  a  daughter,  why  not  let  her  be  half  Roman?  " 

Tracy  fired  out :  "  She's  a  bony  woman,  with  a  brawny 
development ;  mammoth  haunches,  strong  of  the  skeleton ; 
cheek-bones,  fiat-forward,  as  a  fish's  rotting  on  a  beach; 
long  scissor  lips  —  nippers  to  any  wretched  rose  of  a  kiss ! 
a  pugilist's  nose  to  the  nostrils  of  a  phoca;  and  eyes!  — 
don't  you  see  them?  —  luminaries  of  pestilence;  blotted 
yellow,  like  a  tallow-candle  shining  through  a  horny  lan- 
tern." 

At  this  horrible  forced-poetic  portrait,  Emilia  cried  in 
pain :  "  You  hate  her  suddenly !  " 

"  I  loathe  the  creature  —  pah !  "  went  Tracy. 

"  Why  do  you  make  her  so  hideous?  "  Emilia  complained. 
"  I  feel  myself  hating  her  too.  Look  at  me.  Am  I  such  a 
thing  as  that?  " 

"  You !  "  Tracy  was  melted  in  a  trice,  and  gave  the  motion 
of  hugging,  as  a  commentary  on  his  private  opinion. 

"  Can  you  also  be  sure  that  Camillus  can  love  nothing  but 
his  country?  Would  one  love  stop  the  other?"  she  per- 
sisted, gazing  with  an  air  of  steady  anxiety  for  the  answer. 

"There  isn't  a  doubt  about  it,"  said  Tracy. 

Emilia  caught  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  exclaimed  in  a 
stifling  voice :  "It's  true!  it's  true!" 

Tracy  saw  that  her  figure  was  shaken  with  sobs  —  unmis- 
takeable,  hard,  sorrowful  convulsions. 

"  Confound  historical  facts  that  make  her  cry !  "  he  mur- 
mured to  himself,  in  a  fury  at  the  Roman  fables.  "  It's  no 
use  comforting  her  with  Niebuhr  now.  She's  got  a  live 
Camillus  in  her  brain,  and  there  he'll  stick."  Tracy  began 


184  TCMTT.TA    IN  ENGLAND 

to  mutter  the  emphatic  D. ;  quite  cognizant  of  her  case,  as 
he  supposed.  This  intensity  of  human  emotion  about  a  dry 
faggot  of  history  by  no  means  surprised  him ;  and  he  was 
as  tender  to  the  grief  of  his  darling  little  friend  as  if  he  had 
known  the  conflict  that  tore  her  in  two.  Subsequently  he 
related  the  incident,  in  a  tone  of  tender  delight,  to  Wilfrid, 
whom  it  smote.  "Am  I  a  brute?"  asked  the  latter  of  the 
Intelligences  in  the  seat  of  his  consciousness,  and  they  for 
the  moment  gravely  affirmed  it.  I  have  observed  that 
when  young  men  obtain  this  mental  confirmation  of  their 
suspicions,  they  wax  less  reluctant  to  act  as  brutes  than 
when  the  doubt  restrained  them. 

He  reasoned  thus :  "  I  can  bring  my  mind  to  the  idea  of 
losing  her,  if  it  must  be  so."  {Hear,  hear!  from  the  unani- 
mous internal  Parliament.)  "But  I  can't  make  her  miser- 
able" (cheers) " —  I  can't  go  and  break  her  heart"  (loud  cheers, 
drowning  a  faint  dissentient  hum).  — The  scene,  of  which 
Tracy  had  told  him,  gave  Wilfrid  a  kind  of  dread  of  the 
girl.  If  that  was  her  state  of  feeling  upon  a  distant  sub- 
ject, how  would  it  be  when  he  applied  the  knife.  Simply, 
impossible  to  use  the  knife  at  all!  Wield  it  thou,  O  Cir- 
cumstance, babe-munching  Chronos,  whosoever  thou  art, 
that  jarrest  our  poor  human  music  effectually  from  hour  to 
hour! 

Colonel  Pierson  paid  his  promised  visit,  on  his  way  back 
to  his  quarters  at  Verona.  His  stay  was  shortened  by 
rumours  of  anticipated  troubles  in  Italy.  One  day  at  table 
he  chanced  to  observe,  speaking  of  the  Milanese,  that  they 
required  another  lesson,  and  that  it  would  save  the  shed- 
ding of  blood  if,  annually,  the  chief  men  of  the  city  took 
a  flogging  for  the  community  (senseless  arrogance  that  sen- 
sible, and  even  kindly,  men  will  sometimes  be  tempted  to 
utter,  and  prompted  to  act  on,  in  that  deteriorating  state 
of  a  perpetual  repressive  force). —Emilia  looked  at  him 

1  she  caught  his  eye :  "  I  hope  I  shall  never  meet  you 
there,"  she  said. 

The  colonel  coloured,  and  drew  his  finger  along  each 
curve  of  his  moustache.  The  table  was  silent.  Colonel 
Pierson  was  a  gentleman,  but  a  false  position  and  the  irri- 
tating topic  deprived  him  of  proper  self-command. 

"What  would  you  do?"  he  said,  not  gallantly. 


WILFRID  DIPLOMATIZES  185 

Emilia  would  have  been  glad  to  be  allowed  to  subside,  but 
the  tone  stung  her. 

"I  could  not  do  much;  I  am  a  woman,"  said  she. 

Whereto  the  colonel:  "It's  only  the  women  who  do  any- 
thing over  there." 

"  And  that  is  why  you  flog  them !  " 

The  colonel,  seeing  himself  surrounded  by  ladies,  lost 
the  right  guidance  of  his  wits,  at  this  point,  reddened,  and 
was  saved  by  an  Irish  outcry  of  horror  from  some  unpleas- 
ant and  possibly  unmanly  retort.  "Mr.  Paricles  said 
exactly  the  same.  Oh,  sir!  do  ye  wear  an  officer's  uniform 
to  go  about  behavin'  in  that  shockin'  way  to  poor  helpless 
females?" 

This  was  the  first  time  Mrs.  Chump  had  ever  been  found 
of  service  at  the  Brookfield  dining-table.  Colonel  Pierson 
joined  the  current  smile,  and  the  matter  passed. 

He  was  affectionate  with  Wilfrid,  and  invited  him  to 
Verona,  with  the  assurance  that  his  (the  Austrian)  school 
of  cavalry  was  the  best  in  the  world.  "You  beat  us  in 
pace  and  weight;  but  you  can't  skirmish,  you  can't  manage 
squadrons,  and  you  know  nothing  of  outpost  duty,"  said 
the  colonel.  Wilfrid  promised  to  visit  him  some  day:  a 
fact  he  denied  to  Emilia,  when  she  charged  him  with  it. 
Her  brain  seemed  to  be  set  on  fire  by  the  presence  of  an 
Austrian  officer.  The  miserable  belief  that  she  had  aban- 
doned her  country  pressing  on  her  remorsefully,  she  lost 
appetite,  briskness  of  eye,  and  the  soft  reddish-brown  ripe 
blood-hue  that  made  her  cheeks  sweet  to  contemplate.  She 
looked  worn,  small,  wretched :  her  very  walk  indicated  self- 
contempt.  Wilfrid  was  keen  to  see  the  change  for  which 
others  might  have  accused  a  temporary  headache.  Now 
that  she  appeared  under  this  blight,  it  seemed  easier  to 
give  her  up;  and  his  magnanimity  being  thus  encouraged 
(I  am  not  hard  on  him  —  remember  the  constitution  of  love, 
in  which  a  heart  unaroused  is  pure  selfishness,  and  a  heart 
aroused  heroic  generosity;  they  being  one  heart  to  outer 
life)  —  his  magnanimity,  I  say,  being  under  this  favourable 
sun,  he  said  to  himself  that  there  should  be  an  end  of 
double-dealing;  and,  possibly  consoled  by  feeling  a  martyr, 
he  persuaded  himself  to  act  the  gentle  ruffian.  To  which 
end,  he  was  again  absent  from  Brookfield,  for  a  space,  and 
bitterly  missed. 


186  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

Emilia,  for  the  last  two  Sundays,  had  taken  Mr.  Barrett's 
place  at  the  organ.  She  was  playing  the  prelude  to  one  of 
the  evening  hymns,  when  the  lover,  whose  features  she 
dreaded  to  be  once  more  forgetting,  appeared  in  the  cur- 
tained enclosure.  A  stoppage  in  the  tune,  and  a  prolonged 
squeal  of  the  instrument,  gave  the  congregation  below  mat- 
ter to  speculate  upon.  Wilfrid  put  up  his  ringer  and  sat 
reverently  down,  while  Emilia  plunged  tremblingly  at  the 
note  that  was  howling  its  life  away.  And  as  she  managed 
to  swim  into  the  stream  of  the  sacred  melody  again,  her 
head  was  turned  toward  her  lover  under  a  new  sensation ; 
and  the  first  words  she  murmured  were,  "  We  have  never 
been  in  church  together,  before." 

"Not  in  the  evening,"  he  whispered,  likewise  impressed. 

"No,"  said  Emilia,  softly;  flattered  by  his  greater 
accuracy. 

If  Wilfrid  could  have  been  sure  that  he  would  be  perfect 
master  of  that  sentimental  crew  known  to  him  under  the 
denomination  of  his  feelings,  the  place  he  selected  for  their 
parting  interview  might  be  held  creditable  to  this  young 
officer's  acknowledged  strategical  ability.  It  was  a  place 
where  any  fervid  appeals  were  impossible;  where  he  could 
contemplate  her,  listen  to  her,  be  near  her,  alone  with  her, 
having  nothing  to  dread  from  tears,  supplications,  or  pas- 
sion, as  a  consequence  of  the  short  indulgence  of  his  tender- 
ness. But  he  had  failed  to  reckon  on  the  chances  that  he 
himself  might  prove  weak  and  be  betrayed  by  the  crew  for 
whose  comfort  he  was  always  providing;  and  now,  as  she  sat 
there,  her  face  being  sideways  to  him,  the  flush  of  delight 
faint  on  her  cheek,  and  her  eyelids  half  raised  to  the  gilded 
pipes,  while  full  and  sonorous  harmony  rolled  out  from 
her  touch,  it  seemed  the  very  chorus  of  the  heavens  that  she 
commanded,  and  a  subtle  misty  glory  descended  upon  her 
forehead,  which  he  was  long  in  perceiving  to  be  cast  from  a 
moisture  on  his  eyelids. 

When  the  sermon  commenced,  Emilia  quitted  the  organ 
and  took  his  hand.    In  very  low  whispers,  they  spoke :  — 
I  have  wanted  to  see  you  so ! " 

"You  see  me  now,  little  woman." 

"  On  Friday  week  next  I  am  to  go  away." 

"  Nonsense !    You  shall  rot." 


WILFRID  DIPLOMATIZES  187 

"  Your  sisters  say,  yes !  Mr.  Pericles  has  got  my  father's 
consent,  they  say,  to  take  me  to  Italy." 

"  Do  you  think  of  going  ?  " 

Emilia  gazed  at  her  nerveless  hands  lying  in  her  lap. 

"  You  shall  not  go ! "  he  breathed  imperiously  in  her  ear. 

"Then  you  will  marry  me  quite  soon?"  And  Emilia 
looked  as  if  she  would  be  smiling  April,  at  a  word. 

"  My  dear  girl ! "  he  had  an  air  of  caressing  remonstrance. 

"  Because,"  she  continued,  "  if  my  father  finds  me  out,  I 
must  go  to  Italy,  or  go  to  that  life  of  torment  in  London — 
seeing  those  Jew-people  —  horrible!  —  or  others:  and  the 
thought  of  it  is  like  being  under  the  earth,  tasting  bitter 
gravel !  I  could  almost  bear  it  before  you  kissed  me,  my 
lover  !  It  would '  kill  me  now.  Say !  say !  Tell  me  we 
shall  be  together.  I  shudder  all  day  and  night,  and  feel 
frozen  hands  catching  at  me.  I  faint  —  my  heart  falls  deep 
down,  in  the  dark  ...  I  think  I  know  what  dying  is  now ! " 

She  stopped  on  a  tearless  sob ;  and,  at  her  fingers'  ends, 
Wilfrid  felt  the  quivering  of  her  frame. 

"  My  darling !  "  he  interjected.  He  wished  to  explain  the 
situation  to  her,  as  he  then  conceived  it.  But  he  had,  in  his 
calculation,  failed  also  to  count  on  a  peculiar  nervous  fret- 
fulness,  that  the  necessity  to  reiterate  an  explanation  in  whis- 
pers must  superinduce.  So,  when  Emilia  looked  vacant  of 
the  intelligence  imparted  to  her,  he  began  anew,  and  em- 
phatically ;  and  ere  he  was  half  through  it,  Mr.  Marter,  from 
the  pulpit  underneath,  sent  forth  a  significant  reprimand 
to  the  conscience  of  a  particular  culprit  of  his  congregation, 
in  the  form  of  a  solemn  cough.  Emilia  had  to  remain  unen- 
lightened, and  she  proceeded  to  build  on  her  previous  as- 
sumption ;  doing  the  whispering  easily  and  sweetly ;  in  the 
prettiest  way  from  her  tongue's  tip,  with  her  chin  lifted  up ; 
and  sending  the  vowels  on  a  prolonged  hushed  breath,  that 
seemed  to  print  them  on  the  hearing  far  more  distinctly  than 
a  volume  of  sound.  Wilfrid  fell  back  on  monosyllables. 
He  could  not  bring  his  mouth  to  utter  flinty  negatives,  so  it 
appeared  that  he  assented ;  and  then  his  better  nature  abused 
him  for  deluding  her.  He  grew  utterly  ashamed  of  his  aim- 
less selfish  double-dealing.  "  Can  it  be  ?  "  he  questioned  his 
own  mind,  and  listened  greedily  to  any  mental  confirmations 
of  surpassing  excellence  in  her.  +hat  the  world  might  possi- 


188  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

bly  acknowledge.  Having,  with  great  zeal,  created  a  set  of 
circumstances,  he  cursed  them  heartily,  after  the  fashion  of 
little  people.  He  grew  resigned  to  abandon  Lady  Charlotte, 
and  to  give  his  name  to  this  subduing  girl ;  but  a  comfort- 
able quieting  sensation  came  over  him,  at  the  thought  that 
his  filial  duty  stood  in  the  way.  His  father,  he  knew,  was 
anxious  for  him  to  marry  into  a  noble  family  —  incompre- 
hensibly anxious  to  have  the  affair  settled ;  and,  as  two  or 
three  scenes  rose  in  his  mind,  Wilfrid  perceived  that  the 
obstacle  to  his  present  fancy  was  his  father. 

As  clearly  as  he  could,  with  the  dread  of  the  preacher's 
admonishing  cough  before  him,  Wilfrid  stated  the  case  to 
Emilia ;  saying  that  he  loved  her  with  his  whole  heart ;  but 
that  the  truth  was,  his  father  was  not  in  a  condition  of  health 
to  bear  contradiction  to  his  wishes,  and  would,  he  was  sure, 
be  absolutely  opposed  to  their  union.  He  brought  on  himself 
another  reprimand  from  Mr.  Marter,  in  seeking  to  propitiate 
Emilia's  reason  to  comprehend  the  position  rightly ;  and  could 
add  little  more  to  the  fact  he  had  spoken,  than  that  his  father 
had  other  views,  which  it  would  require  time  to  combat. 

Emilia  listened  attentively,  replying  with  a  flying  glance 
to  the  squeeze  of  his  hand.  He  was  astonished  to  see  her  so 
little  disconcerted.  But  now  the  gradual  fall  of  Mr.  Marter's 
voice  gave  them  warning. 

"My  lover?"  breathed  Emilia,  hurriedly  and  eagerly; 
questioning  with  eye  and  tone. 

"  My  darling  ! "  returned  Wilfrid. 

She  sat  down  to  the  organ  with  a  smile.  He  was  careful 
to  retreat  before  the  conclusion  of  the  service;  somewhat 
chagrined  by  his  success.  That  smile  of  hers  was  inexpli- 
cable to  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

EMILIA   MAKES    A   MOVE 


MB.  POLE  was  closeted  in  his  City  counting-house  with  Mr. 

jricles,  before  a  heap  of  papers  and  newly-opened  foreign 
letters ;  to  one  of  which,  bearing  a  Russian  stamp,  he  referred 
fretfully  at  times,  as  if  to  verify  a  monstrous  fact.  Anyone 


EMILIA  MAKES   A  MOVE  189 

could  have  seen  that  he  was  not  in  a  condition  to  transact 
business.  His  face  was  unnaturally  patched  with  colour, 
and  his  grey-tinged  hair  hung  tumbled  over  his  forehead 
like  waves  blown  by  a  changeing  wind.  Still,  he  maintained 
his  habitual  effort  to  look  collected,  and  defeat  the  scrutiny 
of  the  sallow-eyed  fellow  opposite ;  who  quietly  glanced,  now 
and  then,  from  the  nervous  feet  to  the  nervous  fingers,  and 
nodded  to  himself  a  sardonic  outlandish  nod. 

"  Now,  listen  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Pericles.  "  We  shall  not 
burst  out  about  zis  Riga  man.  He  is  a  villain,  —  very  well. 
Say  it.  He  is  a  villain,  —  say  so.  And  stop.  Because" 
(and  up  went  the  Greek's  forefinger),  "  we  must  not  have  a 
scandal,  in  ze  fairst  place.  We  do  not  want  pity,  in  de 
second.  Saird,  we  must  seem  to  trust  him,  in  spite.  I  say, 
yeas !  What  is  pity  to  us  of  commerce  ?  It  is  contempt. 
We  trust  him  on,  and  we  lose  what  he  pocket  —  a  sossand. 
We  burst  on  him,  and  we  lose  twenty,  serty,  forty ;  and  we 
lose  reputation." 

"  I'd  have  every  villain  hanged,"  cried  Mr.  Pole.  "  The 
scoundrel !  I'd  hang  him  with  his  own  hemp.  He  talks  of 
a  factory  burnt,  and  dares  to  joke  about  tallow !  and  in  a 
business  letter!  and  when  he  is  telling  one  of  a  loss  of 
money  to  that  amount!" 

"  Not  bad,  ze  joke,"  grinned  Mr.  Pericles.  "  It  is  a  lesson 
of  coolness.  We  learn  it.  But  mind !  he  say, '  possible  loss.' 
It  is  not  positif.  Hein !  ze  man  is  trying  us.  So !  shall  we 
burst  out  and  make  him  desperate  ?  We  are  in  his  hand  at 
Riga,  you  see  ?  " 

"  I  see  this,"  said  Mr.  Pole,  "  that  he's  a  confounded  rascal, 
and  I'll  know  whether  the  law  can't  reach  him." 

"  Ha !  ze  law ! "  Mr.  Pericles  sneered.  "  So  you  are,  you 
English.  Always,  ze  law !  But,  we  are  men  —  we  are  not 
machine.  Law  for  a  machine,  not  a  man !  We  punish  him, 
perhaps.  Well;  he  is  punished.  He  is  imprisoned  —  forty 
monz.  We  pay  for  him  a  sossand  pound  a  rnonz.  He  is 
flogged  —  forty  lashes.  We  pay  for  him  a  sossand  pound  a 
lash.  You  can  afford  zat  ?  It  is  a  luxury  like  anozer.  It  is 
not  for  me." 

"  How  long  are  we  to  trust  the  villain  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pole. 
"  If  we  trust  him  at  all,  mind !  I  don't  say  I  do,  or  will." 

"  Ze  money  is  locked  up  for  a  year,  my  friend.     So  soon 


190  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

we  get  it,  so  soon  he  goes,  from  ze  toe  off."  Mr.  Pericles' 
shining  toe's-tip  performed  an  agile  circuit,  and  he  smoothed 
his  square  clean  jaw  and  venomous  moustache  reflectively. 
"Not  now,"  he  resumed.  "While  he  hold  us  in  his  hand, 
we  will  not  drive  him  to  ze  devil,  or  we  go  too,  I  believe,  or 
part  of  ze  way.  But  now,  we  say,  zat  money  is  frozen  in 
de  Nord.  We  will  make  it  in  Australie,  and  in  Greek 
waters.  I  have  exposed  to  you  my  plan." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Pole,  "and  I've  told  you  I've  no  preten- 
sions to  be  a  capitalist.  We  have  no  less  than  three  vent- 
ures out,  already." 

"It  is  like  you  English!  When  you  have  ze  world  to 
milk,  you  go  to  one  point  and  stick.  It  fails,  and  you  fail. 
What  is  zat  word?"  —  Mr.  Pericles  tapped  his  brow  — 
"pluck, — you  want  pluck.  It  is  your  decadence.  Greek, 
and  Russian,  and  Yankee,  all  zey  beat  you.  For,  it  is 
pluck.  You  make  a  pin's  head,  not  a  pin.  It  is  in  brain 
and  heart  you  do  fail.  You  have  only  your  position,  — an 
island,  and  ships,  and  some  favour.  You  are  no  match  in 
pluck.  We  beat  you.  And  we  live  for  pleasure,  while  you 
groan  and  sweat  —  won  Dieu!  it  is  slavery." 

Mr.  Pericles  twinkled  his  white  eyes  over  the  blinking 
merchant,  and  rose  from  his  chair,  humming  a  bit  of  opera, 
and  announcing,  casually,  that  a  certain  prima-donna  had 
obtained  a  divorce  from  her  husband. 

"But,"  he  added,  suddenly,  "I  say  to  you,  if  you  cannot 
afford  to  speculate,  run  away  from  it  as  ze  fire.  Run  away 
from  it,  and  hold  up  your  coat-tail.  Jump  ditches,  and 
do  not  stop  till  you  are  safe  home  —  hein?  you  say  'cosy?' 
I  hear  my  landlady.  Run  till  you  are  safe  cosy.  But  if 
you  are  a  man  wis  a  head  and  a  pocket,  zen  you  know  that 
'speculate '  means  a  dozen  ventures.  So,  you  come  clear. 
Or,  it  is  ruin.  It  is  ruin,  I  say:  you  have  been  playing." 

"An  Englishman,"  returned  Mr.  Pole,  disgusted  at  the 
shrugs  he  had  witnessed  —  "  an  Englishman's  as  good  as  any 
of  you.  Look  at  us  —  look  at  our  history  —  look  at  our 
wealth.  By  Jingo !  But  we  like  plain-dealing  and  common 
sense;  and  as  to  afford,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"No,  no,"  Mr. Pericles  petitioned  with  uplifted  hand; 
"my  English  is  bad.  It  is  — ah!  bad.  You  shall  look  it 
over  —  my  plan.  It  will  strike  your  sense.  Next  week  I 


EMILIA  MAKES   A  MOVE  191 

go  to  Italy.  I  take  ze  little  Belloni.  You  will  manage  all. 
I  have  in  you,  my  friend,  perfec'  confidence.  An  English- 
man, he  is  honest.  An  Englishman  and  a  Greek  conjoined, 
zey  beat  ze  world !  It  is  true,  ma  foi.  For  zat,  I  seek  you, 
and  not  a  countryman.  A  Frenchman?  —  oh,  no!  A  Ger- 
man?—  not  a  bit!  A  Russian?  —  never!  A  Yankee?  — 
save  me!  I  am  a  Greek  —  I  take  an  Englishman." 

"Well,  well,  you  must  leave  me  to  think  it  over,"  said 
Mr.  Pole,  pleasantly  smoothed  down.  "As  to  honesty, 
that's  a  matter  of  course  with  us :  that's  the  mere  footing 
we  go  upon.  We  don't  plume  ourselves  upon  what's  gen- 
eral, here.  There  is,  I  regret  to  say,  a  difference  between 
us  and  other  nations.  I  believe  it's  partly  their  religion. 
They  swindle  us,  and  pay  their  priests  for  absolution  with 
our  money.  If  you're  a  double-dyed  sinner,  you  can  easily 
get  yourself  whitewashed  over  there.  Confound  them! 
When  that  fellow  sent  no  remittance  last  month,  I  told  you 
I  suspected  him.  Who  was  the  shrewdest  then?  As  for 
pluck,  I  never  failed  in  that  yet.  But,  I  will  see  a  thing 
clear.  The  man  who  speculates  blindfold,  is  a  fowl  who 
walks  into  market  to  be  plucked.  Between  being  plucked, 
and  having  pluck,  you'll  see  a  distinction  when  you  know 
the  language  better ;  but  you  must  make  use  of  your  head, 
of  the  chances  are  you  won't  be  much  of  a  difference, —  eh? 
I'll  think  over  your  scheme.  I'm  not  a  man  to  hesitate,  if 
the  calculations  are  sound.  I'll  look  at  the  papers  here." 

"My  friend,  you  will  decide  before  zat  I  go  to  Italy," 
said  Mr.  Pericles,  and  presently  took  his  leave. 

When  he  was  gone,  Mr.  Pole  turned  his  chair  to  the  table, 
and  made  an  attempt  to  inspect  one  of  the  papers  deliber- 
ately. Having  untied  it,  he  retied  it  with  care,  put  it  aside, 
marked  "immediate,"  and  read  the  letter  from  Riga  anew. 
This  he  tore  into  shreds,  with  animadversions  on  the  quality 
of  the  rags  that  had  produced  it,  and  opened  the  important 
paper  once  more.  He  got  to  the  end  of  a  sentence  or  two, 
when  his  fingers  moved  about  for  the  letter;  and  then  his 
mind  conceived  a  necessity  for  turning  to  the  directory,  for 
which  he  rang  the  bell.  The  great  red  book  was  brought 
into  his  room  by  a  youthful  clerk,  who  waited  by,  while  his 
master,  unaware  of  his  presence,  tracked  a  name  with  his 
forefinger.  It  stopped  at  POLE,  SAMUEL  BOLTON;  and  a 


192  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

lurking  sinile  was  on  the  merchant's  face  as  he  read  the 
name :  a  smile  of  curious  meaning,  neither  fresh  nor  sad ;  the 
meditative  smile  of  one  who  looks  upon  an  afflicted  creature 
from  whom  he  is  aloof.  After  a  lengthened  contemplation 
of  this  name,  he  said,  with  a  sigh,  "  Poor  Chump !  I  wonder 
whether  he's  here,  too."  A  search  for  the  defunct  proved 
that  he  was  out  of  date.  Mr.  Pole  thrust  his  hand  to  the 
bell  that  he  might  behold  poor  Chump  in  an  old  directory 
that  would  call  up  the  blotted  years. 

"  I  am  here,  sir, "  said  his  clerk,  who  had  been  holding 
deferential  watch  at  a  few  steps  from  the  table. 

"  What  do  you  do  here  then,  sir,  all  this  time?  " 

"I  waited,  sir,  because " 

"  You  waste  and  dawdle  away  twenty  or  thirty  minutes, 
when  you  ought  to  be  doing  your  work.  What  do  you 
mean?  "  Mr.  Pole  stood  up  and  took  an  angry  stride. 

The  young  man  could  scarcely  believe  his  master  was  not 
stooping  to  jest  with  him.  He  said :  "  For  that  matter,  sir, 
it  can't  be  a  minute  that  I  have  been  wasting." 

"I  called  you  in  half-an-hour  ago,"  returned  Mr.  Pole, 
fumbling  at  his  watch-fob. 

"It  must  have  been  somebody  else,  sir." 

"Did  you  bring  in  this  directory?    Look  at  it!     This?" 

"This  is  the  book  that  I  brought  in,  sir." 

"How  long  since?" 

"I  think,  not  a  minute  and  a  half,  sir." 

Mr.  Pole  gazed  at  him,  and  coughed  slowly.  "  I  could 
have  sworn  .  .  ."he  murmured,  and  commenced  blinking. 

"I  suppose  I  must  be  a  little  queer,"  he  pursued;  and 
instantly  his  right  hand  struck  out,  quivering.  The  young 
clerk  grasped  it,  and  drew  him  to  a  chair. 

"Tush,"  said  his  master,  working  his  feverish  fingers 
across  his  forehead.  "  Want  of  food.  I  don't  eat  like  you 
young  fellows.  Fetch  me  a  glass  of  wine  and  a  biscuit. 
Good  wine,  mind.  Port.  Or,  no;  you  can't  trust  tavern 
Port:  —  brandy.  Get  it  yourself,  don't  rely  on  the  porter. 
And  bring  it  yourself,  you  understand  the  importance? 
What  is  your  name?" 

"Braintop,"  replied  the  youth,  with  the  modesty  of  one 
whose  name  has  been  too  frequently  subjected  to  puns. 

"I  think  I  never  heard  so  singular  a  name  in  my  life," 


EMILIA  MAKES  A  MOVE  193 

Mr.  Pole  ejaculated  seriously.  "Braintop!  It'll  always 
make  me  think  of  brandy.  What  are  you  waiting  for  now?  " 

"  I  took  the  liberty  of  waiting  before,  to  say  that  a  lady 
wished  to  see  you,  sir." 

Mr.  Pole  started  from  his  chair.     "A  foreign  lady?" 

"  She  may  be  foreign.  She  speaks  English,  sir,  and  her 
name,  I  think,  was  foreign.  I've  forgotten  it,  I  fear." 

"It's  the  wife  of  that  fellow  from  Riga!  "  cried  the  mer- 
chant. "  Show  her  in.  Show  her  in,  immediately.  I  sus- 
pected this.  She's  in  London,  I  know.  I'm  equal  to  her: 
show  her  in.  When  you  fetch  the  Braintop  and  biscuit,  call 
me  to  the  door.  You  understand." 

The  youth  affected  meekly  to  enjoy  this  fiery  significance 
given  to  his  name,  and  said  that  he  understood,  without  any 
doubt.  He  retired,  and  in  a  few  minutes  ushered  in  Emilia 
Belloni. 

Mr.  Pole  was  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  wearing  a  coun- 
tenance of  marked  severity,  and  watchful  to  maintain  it  in 
his  opening  bow ;  but  when  he  perceived  his  little  Brookfield 
guest  standing  timidly  in  the  doorway,  his  eyebrows  lifted, 
and  his  hands  spread  out;  and  "  Well,  to  be  sure !  "  he  cried; 
while  Emilia  hurried  up  to  him.  She  had  to  assure  him 
that  everything  was  right  at  home,  and  was  next  called  upon 
to  state  what  had  brought  her  to  town;  but  his  continued 
exclamation  of  "  Bless  my  soul ! "  reprieved  her  reply,  and 
she  sat  in  a  chair  panting  quickly. 

Mr.  Pole  spoke  tenderly  of  refreshments ;  wine  and  cake, 
or  biscuits. 

"I  cannot  eat  or  drink,"  said  Emilia. 

"  Why,  what's  come  to  you,  my  dear?  "  returned  Mr.  Pole 
in  unaffected  wonder. 

"I  am  not  hungry." 

"You  generally  are,  at  home,  about  this  time  —  eh?" 

Emilia  sighed,  and  feigned  the  sad  note  to  be  a  breath  of 
fatigue. 

"  Well,  and  why  are  you  here,  my  dear?  "  Mr.  Pole  was 
beginning  to  step  to  the  right  and  the  left  of  her  uneasily. 

"I  have  come "  she  paused,  with  a  curious  quick 

speculating  look  between  her  eyes ;  "  I  have  come  to  see  you." 

"See  me,  my  dear?    You  saw  me  this  morning." 

"Yes;  I  wanted  to  see  you  alone." 


194  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

Emilia  was  having  the  first  conflict  with  her  simplicity; 
out  of  which  it  was  not  to  issue  clear,  as  in  the  foregone 
days.  She  was  thinking  of  the  character  of  the  man  she 
spoke  to,  studying  him,  that  she  might  win  him  to  suc- 
cour the  object  she  had  in  view.  It  was  a  quality  going, 
and  a  quality  coming;  nor  will  we,  if  you  please,  lament  a 
law  of  growth. 

"Why,  you  can  see  me  alone,  any  day,  my  dear,"  said 
Mr.  Pole;  "for  many  a  day,  I  hope." 

"You  are  more  alone  to  me  here.  I  cannot  speak  at 
Brookfield.  Oh!"  — and  Emilia  had  to  still  her  heart's 
throbbing  —  "you  do  not  want  me  to  go  to  Italy,  do  you?  " 

"Want  you  to  go?  Not  a  bit.  There  is  some  talk  of  it, 
isn't  there?  I  don't  want  you  to  go.  Don't  you  want 
to  go?" 

"No!  no!"  said  Emilia,  with  decisive  fervour. 

"Don't  want  to  go?" 

"  No :  to  stay !     I  want  to  stay ! " 

"Eh?  to  stay?" 

"  To  stay  with  you !  Never  to  leave  England,  at  least ! 
I  want  to  give  up  all  that  I  may  stay." 

"All?"  repeated  Mr.  Pole,  evidently  marvelling  as  to 
what  that  sounding  box  might  contain ;  and  still  more  per- 
plexed to  hear  Emilia's  vehement  —  "  Yes !  all !  "  as  if  there 
were  that  in  the  mighty  abnegation  to  make  a  reasonable 
listener  doubtful. 

"No.  I  really  don't  want  you  to  go,"  he  said.  "In 
fact,"  and  the  merchant's  hospitable  nature  was  at  war  with 
something  in  his  mind,  "  I  like  you,  my  dear ;  I  like  to  have 
you  about  me.  You're  cheerful;  you're  agreeable;  I  like 
your  smile;  your  voice,  too.  You're  a  very  pleasant  com- 
panion. Only,  you  know,  we  may  break  up  our  house.  If 
the  girls  get  married,  I  must  live  somewhere  in  lodgings, 
and  I  couldn't  very  well  ask  you  to  cook  for  me." 

"I  can  cook  a  little,"  Emilia  smiled.  "I  went  into  the 
kitchen,  till  Adela  objected." 

"Yes,  but  it  wouldn't  do,  you  know,"  pursued  Mr.  Pole, 
with  the  seriousness  of  a  man  thrown  out  of  his  line  of 
argument.  "You  can  cook,  eh?  Got  an  idea  of  it?  I 
always  said  you  were  a  useful  little  woman.  Do  have  a 
biscuit  and  some  wine: — No?  well,  where  was  I?  —  That 


EMILIA  MAKES   A   MOVE  195 

confounded  boy.  Brainty  —  top,  top!  that's  it:  Braintop. 
Was  I  talking  of  him,  my  dear?  Oh  no!  about  your  get- 
ting married.  For  if  you  can  cook,  why  not?  Get  a  hus- 
band and  then  you  won't  go  to  Italy.  You  ought  to  get 
one.  Some  young  fellows  don't  look  for  money." 

"I  shall  make  money  come,  in  time,"  said  Emilia;  in  the 
leaping  ardour  of  whose  eyes  might  be  seen  that  what  she 
had  journeyed  to  speak  was  hot  within  her.  "  I  know  I 
shall  be  worth  having.  I  shall  win  a  name,  I  think  —  I  do 
hope  it!" 

"Well,  so  Pericles  says.  He's  got  a  great  notion  of  you. 
Perhaps  he  means  it  himself.  He's  rich.  Rash,  I  admit. 
But,  as  the  chances  go,  he's  tremendously  rich.  He  may 
mean  it." 

"What?"  asked  Emilia. 

"Marry  you,  you  know." 

"Ah!  what  a  torture!" 

In  that  heat  of  her  feelings  she  realized  the  horror  of  the 
words  to  her,  with  an  intensity  that  made  them  seem  to 
quiver  like  an  arrow  in  her  breast. 

"  You  don't  like  him?  "  said  Mr.  Pole. 

"  Not  love  him !  not  love  him !  " 

"Yes,  yes,  but  that  comes  after  marriage.  Often  the 
case.  Look  here:  don't  you  go  against  your  interests. 
You  mustn't  be  flighty.  If  Pericles  speaks  to  you,  have 
him.  Clap  your  hands.  Dozens  of  girls  would,  that  I 
know. " 

"But,  oh!"  interposed  Emilia;  "if  he  married  me  he 
would  kiss  me !  " 

Mr.  Pole  coughed  and  blinked.  "  Well ! "  he  remarked, 
as  one  gravely  cogitating;  and  with  the  native  delicacy  of 
a  Briton  turned  it  off  in  a  playful,  "So  shall  I  now,"  add- 
ing, "though  I  ain't  your  husband." 

He  stooped  his  head.  Emilia  put  her  hands  on  his  shoul- 
ders, and  submitted  her  face  to  him. 

"  There  I  "  went  Mr.  Pole :  "  'pon  my  honour,  it  does  me 
good :  —  better  than  medicine !  But  you  mustn't  give  that 
dose  to  everybody,  my  dear.  You  don't,  of  course.  All 
right,  all  right  —  I'm  quite  satisfied.  I  was  only  thinking 
of  you  going  to  Italy,  among  those  foreign  rascals,  who've 
no  more  respect  for  a  girl  than  they  have  for  a  monkey  — • 


196  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

their  brother.  A  set  of  swindlers !  I  took  you  for  the  wife 
of  one  when  you  came  in,  at  first.  And  now,  business  is 
business.  Let's  get  it  over.  What  have  you  come  about? 
Glad  to  see  you  —  understand  that." 

Emilia  lifted  her  eyes  to  his. 

"You  know  I  love  you,  sir." 

"I'm  sure  you're  a  grateful  little  woman." 

She  rose :  "  Oh !  how  can  I  speak  it !  " 

An  idea  that  his  daughters  had  possibly  sent  her  to  herald 
one  of  the  renowned  physicians  of  London,  concerning  whom 
he  was  perpetually  being  plagued  by  them,  or  to  lead  him 
to  one,  flashed  through  Mr.  Pole.  He  was  not  in  a  state  to 
weigh  the  absolute  value  of  such  a  suspicion,  but  it  seemed 
probable;  it  explained  an  extraordinary  proceeding;  and, 
having  conceived,  his  wrath  took  it  up  as  a  fact,  and  fought 
with  it. 

"  Stop !  If  that's  what  you've  come  for,  we'll  bring  mat- 
ters to  a  crisis.  You  fancy  me  ill,  don't  you,  my  dear?  " 

"You  do  not  look  well,  sir." 

Emilia's  unhesitating  reply  confirmed  the  suspicion. 

"  I  am  well.  I  am,  I  say !  And  now,  understand  that, 
if  that's  your  business,  I  won't  go  to  the  fellow,  and  I  won't 
see  him  here.  They'll  make  me  out  mad,  next.  He  shall 
never  have  a  guinea  from  me  while  I  live.  No,  nor  when 
I  die.  Not  a  farthing !  Sit  down,  my  dear,  and  wait  for 
the  biscuits.  I  wish  to  heaven  they'd  come.  There's  brandy 
coming,  too.  Where's  Braintop?" 

He  took  out  his  handkerchief  to  wipe  his  forehead,  and 
jerked  it  like  a  bell-rope. 

Emilia,  in  a  singular  bewilderment,  sat  eyeing  a  beam  of 
sombre  city  sunlight  on  the  dusty  carpet.  She  could  only 
suppose  that  the  offending  'he'  was  Wilfrid;  but,  why  he 
should  be  so,  she  could  not  guess :  and  how  to  plead  for  him, 
divided  her  mind. 

"Don't  blame  him;  be  angry  with  me,  if  you  are  angry," 
she  began  softly.  "  I  know  he  thinks  of  you  anxiously.  I 
know  he  would  do  nothing  to  hurt  you.  No  one  is  so  kind 
as  he  is.  Would  you  deprive  him  of  money,  because  he 
offends  you?  " 

"Deprive  him  of  money,"  repeated  Mr.  Pole,  with  un-, 
grudging  accentuation.  "Well,  I've  heard  about  women, 


EMILIA  MAKES   A  MOVE  197 

but  I  never  knew  one  so  anxious  for  a  doctor  to  get  his 
fee  as  you  are." 

Emilia  wonderingly  fixed  her  sight  on  him  an  instant, 
and,  quite  unillumined,  resumed :  "  Blame  me,  sir.  But,  I 
know  you  will  be  too  kind.  Oh!  I  love  him.  So,  I  must 
love  you,  and  I  would  not  give  you  pain.  It  is  true  he  loves 
me.  You  will  not  see  him,  because  he  loves  me?" 

"The  doctor?"  muttered  Mr.  Pole.  "The  doctor?"  he 
almost  bellowed;  and  got  sharp  up  from  his  chair,  and 
looked  at  himself  in  the  glass,  blinking  rapidly;  and  then 
turned  to  inspect  Emilia. 

Emilia  drew  him  to  her  side  again. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said ;  and  there  became  visible  in  his  face  a 
frightful  effort  to  comprehend  her,  and  get  to  the  sense  of 
her  words. 

And  why  it  was  so  frightful  as  to  be  tragic,  you  will  know- 
presently. 

He  thought  of  the  arrival  of  Braintop,  freighted  with 
brandy,  as  the  only  light  in  the  mist ;  and  breathing  heavily 
from  his  nose,  almost  snorting  the  air  he  took  in  from  a 
widened  mouth,  he  sat  and  tried  to  listen  to  her  words  as 
well  as  for  Braintop' s  feet. 

Emilia  was  growing  too  conscious  of  her  halting  eloquence, 
as  the  imminence  of  her  happiness  or  misery  hung  balancing 
in  doubtful  scales  before  her. 

"  Oh !  he  loves  me,  and  I  love  him,"  she  gasped,  and  won- 
dered why  words  should  be  failing  her.  "  See  us  together, 
sir,  and  hear  us.  We  will  make  you  well." 

The  exclamation,  "  Good  Lord ! "  groaned  out  in  a  tone  as 
from  the  lower  pits  of  despair,  cut  her  short. 

Tearfully  she  murmured :  "  You  will  not  see  us,  sir  ?  " 

"  Together  ?  "  bawled  the  merchant. 

"  Yes,  I  mean  together." 

"  If  you're  not  mad,  I  am."  And  he  jumped  on  his  legs 
and  walked  to  the  farther  corner  of  the  room.  "  Which  of 
us  is  it  ?  "  His  features  twitched  in  horribly  comic  fashion. 
"What  do  you  mean?  I  can't  understand  a  word.  My 
brain  must  have  gone ; "  throwing  his  hand  over  his  fore- 
head. "  I've  feared  so  for  the  last  four  months.  Good  God ! 
a  lunatic  asylum  !  and  the  business  torn  like  a  piece  of  old 
rag !  I  know  that  fellow  at  Eiga's  dancing  like  a  cannibal, 


198  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

and  there  — there'll  be  articles  in  the  papers.— Here,  girl! 
come  up  to  the  light.  Come  here,  I  say." 

Emilia  walked  up  to  him. 

"  You  don't  look  mad.  I  dare  say  everybody  else  under- 
stands you.  Do  they  ?  " 

The  sad-flushed  pallor  of  his  face  provoked  Emilia  to  say  : 
"  You  ought  to  have  the  doctor  here  immediately.  Let  me 
bring  him,  sir." 

A  gleam  as  of  a  lantern  through  his  oppressive  mental 
fog  calmed  the  awful  irritability  of  his  nerves  somewhat. 

"  You've  got  him  outside  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

The  merchant's  eagerness  faded  out.  He  put  his  hand  to 
her  shoulder,  and  went  along  to  a  chair,  sinking  into  it,  and 
closing  his  eyelids.  So  they  remained,  Emilia  at  his  right 
hand.  She  watched  him  breathing  with  a  weak  open  mouth, 
and  thought  more  of  the  doctor  now  than  of  Wilfrid. 


CHAPTEE  XXV 

A  FARCE   WITHIN   A   FABCB 

BRAINTOP'S  knock  at  the  door  had  been  unheeded  for 
some  minutes.  At  last  Emilia  let  him  in.  The  brandy  and 
biscuits  were  placed  on  a  table,  and  Emilia  resumed  her 
watch  by  Mr.  Pole.  She  saw  that  his  lips  moved,  after  a 
space,  and  putting  her  ear  down,  understood  that  he  desired 
not  to  see  anyone  who  might  come  for  an  interview  with 
him :  nor  were  the  clerks  to  be  admitted.  The  latter  direc- 
tion was  given  in  precise  terms.  Emilia  repeated  the  orders 
outside.  On  her  return,  the  merchant's  eyes  were  open. 

"  My  forehead  feels  damp,"  he  said ;  "  and  I'm  not  hot  at 
all.  Just  take  hold  of  my  hands.  They're  like  wet  crumpets. 
I  wonder  what  makes  me  so  stiff.  A  man  mustn't  sit  at 
business  too  long  at  a  time.  Sure  to  make  people  think  he's 
ill.  What  was  that  about  a  doctor  ?  I  seem  to  remember. 
I  won't  see  one." 

Emilia  had  filled  a  glass  with  brandy.     She  brought  it 


A  FARCE   WITHIN   A  FABCB  199 

nearer  to  his  hand,  while  he  was  speaking.  At  the  touch 
of  the  glass,  his  fingers  went  round  it  slowly,  and  he  raised 
it  to  his  mouth.  The  liquor  revived  him.  He  breathed 
"  ah !  "  several  times,  and  grimaced,  blinking,  as  if  seeking 
to  arouse  a  proper  brightness  in  his  eyes.  Then,  he  held 
out  his  empty  glass  to  her,  and  she  filled  it,  and  he  sipped 
deliberately,  saying :  "  I'm  warm  inside.  I  keep  on  perspir- 
ing so  cold.  Can't  make  it  out.  Look  at  my  finger-ends, 
my  dear.  They're  whitish,  aren't  they  ?  " 

Emilia  took  the  hand  he  presented,  and  chafed  it,  and 
put  it  against  her  bosom,  half  under  one  arm.  The  action 
appeared  to  give  some  warmth  to  his  heart,  for  he  petted 
her,  in  return. 

A  third  time  he  held  out  the  glass,  and  remarked  that 
this  stuff  was  better  than  medicine. 

"  You  women ! "  he  sneered,  as  at  a  reminiscence  of  their 
faith  in  drugs. 

"  My  legs  are  weak,  though ! "  He  had  risen  and  tested 
the  fact.  "Very  shaky.  I  wonder  what  makes  'em  —  I 
don't  take  much  exercise."  Pondering  on  this  problem,  he 
pursued :  "  It's  the  stomach.  I'm  as  empty  as  an  egg-shell. 
Odd,  I've  got  no  appetite.  But,  my  spirits  are  up.  I  begin 
to  feel  myself  again.  I'll  eat  by-and-by,  my  dear.  And,  I 
say;  I'll  tell  you  what:  —  I'll  take  you  to  the  theatre 
to-night.  I  want  to  laugh.  A  man's  all  right  when  he's 
laughing.  I  wish  it  was  Christmas.  Don't  you  like  to  see 
the  old  pantaloon  tumbled  over,  my  boy  ?  —  my  girl,  I  mean. 
I  did,  when  I  was  a  boy.  My  father  took  me.  I  went  in 
the  pit.  I  can  smell  oranges,  when  I  think  of  it.  I  remem- 
ber, we  supped  on  German  sausage;  or  ham  —  one  or  the 
other.  Those  were  happy  old  days ! " 

He  shook  his  head  at  them  across  the  misty  gulf. 

"  Perhaps  there's  a  good  farce  going  on  now.  If  so,  we'll 
go.  Girls  ought  to  learn  to  laugh  as  well  as  boys.  I'll  ring 
for  Braintop." 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  bade  Emilia  be  careful  to  remind  him 
that  he  wanted  Braintop's  address ;  for  Braintop  was  useful. 

It  appeared  that  there  were  farces  at  several  of  the 
theatres.  Braintop  rattled  them  out,  their  plot  and  fun 
and  the  merits  of  the  actors,  with  delightful  volubility,  as 
one  whose  happy  subject  had  been  finally  discovered.  He 


200  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

was  forthwith  commissioned  to  start  immediately  and  take 
a  stage-box  at  one  of  the  places  of  entertainment,  where 
two  great  rivals  of  the  Doctor  genus  promised  to  laugh  dull 
care  out  of  the  spirit  of  man  triumphantly,  and  at  the  de- 
scription of  whose  drolleries  anyone  with  faith  might  be 
half  cured.  The  youth  gave  his  address  on  paper  to  Emilia. 

"Make  haste,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pole.  "And,  stop.  You 
shall  go,  yourself ;  go,  to  the  pit,  and  have  a  supper,  and  I'll 
pay  for  it.  When  you've  ordered  the  box  —  do  you  know 
the  Bedford  Hotel  ?  Go  there,  and  see  Mrs.  Chickley,  and 
tell  her  I  am  coming  to  dine  and  sleep,  and  shall  bring  one 
of  my  daughters.  Dinner,  sitting-room,  and  two  bed-rooms, 
mind.  And  tell  Mrs.  Chickley  we've  got  no  carpet-bag,  and 
must  come  upon  her  wardrobe.  All  clear  to  you  ?  Dinner 
at  half-past  five  :  —  going  to  theatre." 

Braintop  bowed  comprehendingly. 

"Now,  that  fellow  goes  off  chirping,"  said  Mr.  Pole  to 
Emilia.  "  It's  just  the  thing  I  used  to  wish  to  happen  to 
me,  when  I  was  his  age  —  my  master  to  call  me  in  and  say 
—  'There!  go  and  be  jolly.'  I  dare  say  the  rascal  '11  order 
a  champagne  supper.  Poor  young  chap!  let  his  heart  be 
merry.  Ha !  ha !  heigho !  —  Too  much  business  is  bad  for 
man  and  boy.  I  feel  better  already,  if  it  weren't  for  my 
legs.  My  feet  are  so  cold.  Don't  you  think  I'm  pretty 
talkative,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  talk,"  said  Emilia,  striving  to 
look  less  perplexed  than  she  felt. 

He  asked  her  slyly  why  she  had  come  to  London;  and 
she  begged  that  she  might  speak  of  it  by-and-by ;  whereat 
Mr.  Pole  declared  that  he  intended  to  laugh  them  all  out  of 
that  nonsense.  "  And  what  did  you  say  about  being  in  love 
with  him?  A  doctor  in  good  practice — but  you  needn't 
commence  by  killing  me  if  you  do  go  and  marry  the  fellow. 
Eh?  what  is  it?" 

Emilia  was  too  much  entangled  herself  to  attempt  to 
extricate  him ;  and  apparently  his  wish  to  be  enlightened 
passed  away,  for  he  was  the  next  instant  searching  among 
his  papers  for  the  letter  from  Riga.  Not  finding  it,  he  put 
on  his  hat. 

"  Must  give  up  business  to-day.  Can't  do  business  with 
«•  petticoat  in  the  room.  I  wish  the  Lord  Mayor 'd  stop 


A  FAltCE  WITHIN   A   FARCB  201 

them  all  at  Temple  Bar.     Now  we'll  go  out,  and  I'll  show 
you  a  bit  of  the  City." 

He  offered  her  his  arm,  and  she  noticed  that  in  walking 
through  the  office,  he  was  erect,  and  the  few  words  he  spoke 
were  delivered  in  the  peremptory  elastic  tone  of  a  vigorous 
man. 

"  My  girls,"  he  said  to  her,  in  an  undertone,  "  never  come 
here.  Well !  we  don't  expect  ladies,  you  know.  Different 
spheres  in  this  world.  They  mean  to  be  tip-top  in  society; 
and  quite  right  too.  My  dear,  I  think  we'll  ride.  Do  you 
mind  being  seen  in  a  cab  ?  " 

He  asked  her  hesitatingly :  and  when  Emilia  said,  "  Oh, 
no !  let  us  ride,"  he  seemed  relieved.  "  /  can't  see  the  harm 
in  a  cab.  Different  tastes,  in  this  world.  My  girls  —  but, 
thank  the  Lord !  they've  got  carriages." 

For  an  hour  the  merchant  and  Emilia  drove  about  the 
City.  He  showed  her  all  the  great  buildings,  and  dilated  on 
the  fabulous  piles  of  wealth  they  represented,  taking  evident 
pleasure  in  her  exclamations  of  astonishment. 

'•'  Yes,  yes ;  they  may  despise  us  City  fellows.  I  say, 
'  Come  and  see : '  that's  all !  Now,  look  up  that  court.  Do 
you  see  three  dusty  windows  on  the  second  floor  ?  That 
man  there  could  b\\y  up  any  ten  princes  in  Europe  —  except- 
ing one  or  two  Austrians  or  Russians.  He  wears  a  coat  just 
like  mine." 

"  Does  he  ? "  said  Emilia,  involuntarily  examining  the 
one  by  her  side. 

"  We  don't  show  our  gold-linings,  in  the  City,  my  dear." 

"  But,  you  are  rich,  too." 

"  Oh  !  I  —  as  far  as  that  goes.  Don't  talk  about  me.  I'm 
—  I'm  still  cold  in  the  feet.  Now,  look  at  that  corner  house. 
Three  months  ago  that  man  was  one  of  our  most  respected 
City  merchants.  Now  he's  a  bankrupt,  and  can't  show  his 
head.  It  was  all  rotten.  A  medlar!  He  tampered  with 
documents ;  betrayed  trusts.  What  do  you  think  of  him  ?  " 

"  What  was  it  he  did  ?  "  asked  Emilia. 

Mr.  Pole  explained,  and  excused  him ;  then  he  explained, 
and  abused  him. 

"  He  hadn't  a  family,  my  dear.  Where  did  the  money 
go  ?  He's  called  a  rascal  now,  poor  devil !  Business  brings 
awful  temptations.  You  think,  this'il  save  me !  You  catch 


202  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

hold  of  it  and  it  snaps.  That'll  save  me ;  but  you're  too 
heavy,  and  the  roots  give  way,  and  down  you  go  lower  and 
lower.  Lower  and  lower !  The  gates  of  hell  must  be  very 
low  down  if  one  of  our  bankrupts  don't  reach  'em."  He 
spoke  this  in  a  deep  underbreath.  "  Let's  get  out  of  the 
City.  There's  no  air.  Look  at  that  cloud.  It's  about  over 
Brookfield,  I  should  say." 

"  Dear  Brookfield ! "  echoed  Emilia,  feeling  her  heart  fly 
forth  to  sing  like  a  skylark  under  the  cloud. 

"  And  they're  not  satisfied  with  it,"  murmured  Mr.  Pole, 
with  a  voice  of  unwonted  bitterness. 

At  the  hotel,  he  was  received  very  cordially  by  Mrs. 
Chickley,  and  Simon,  the  old  waiter. 

"  You  look  as  young  as  ever,  ma'am,"  Mr.  Pole  compli- 
mented her  cheerfully,  while  he  stamped  his  feet  on  the 
floor,  and  put  forward  Emilia  as  one  of  his  girls ;  but  imme- 
diately took  the  landlady  aside,  to  tell  her  that  she  was 
•'  merely  a  charge  —  a  ward  —  something  of  that  sort ; " 
admitting,  gladly  enough,  that  she  was  a  very  nice  young 
lady.  "She's  a  genius,  ma'am,  in  music:  —  going  to  do 
wonders.  She's  not  one  of  them."  And  Mr.  Pole  informed 
Mrs.  Chickley  that  when  they  came  to  town,  they  usually 
slept  in  one  or  other  of  the  great  squares.  He,  for  his  part, 
preferred  old  quarters  :  comfort  versus  grandeur. 

Simon  had  soon  dressed  the  dinner-table.  By  the  time 
dinner  was  ready,  Mr.  Pole  had  sunk  into  such  a  condition 
of  drowsiness,  that  it  was  hard  to  make  him  see  why  he 
should  be  aroused,  and  when  he  sat  down,  fronting  Emilia, 
his  eyes  were  glazed,  and  he  complained  that  she  was 
scarcely  visible. 

"  Some  of  your  old  yellow  seal,  Simon.  That's  what  I 
want.  I  haven't  got  better  at  home." 

The  contents  of  this  old  yellow  seal  formed  the  chief  part 
of  the  merchant's  meal.  Emilia  was  induced  to  drink  two 
full  glasses. 

"  Doesn't  that  make  your  feet  warm,  my  dear  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Pole. 

"  It  makes  me  want  to  talk,"  Emilia  confessed. 

"  Ah !  we  shall  have  some  fun  to-night.     *  To-the-rutte-ta- 

If  you  could  only  sing,  '  Begone  dull  care ! '     I  like 

glees :  good,  honest,  English,  manly  singing,  for  me  I    Notb- 


A  PAECE   WITHIN   A   FARCE  203 

ing  like  glees  and  madrigals,  to  my  mind.  With  chops  and 
baked  potatoes,  and  a  glass  of  good  stout,  they  beat  all 
other  music." 

Emilia  sang  softly  to  him. 

When  she  had  finished,  Mr.  Pole  applauded  her  mildly. 

"  Your  music,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  My  music :  Mr.  Runningbrook's  words.  But  only  look. 
He  will  not  change  a  word,  and  some  of  the  words  are  so 
curious,  they  make  me  lift  my  chin  and  pout.  It's  all  in 
my  throat.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  to  do  it  on  tiptoe.  Mr.  Run- 
ningbrook  wrote  the  song  in  ten  minutes." 

"  He  can  afford  to  —  comes  of  a  family,"  said  Mr.  Pole, 
and  struck  up  a  bit  of  "  Celia's  Arbour,"  which  wandered 
into  "  The  Soldier  Tired,"  as  he  came  bendingly,  both  sets 
of  fingers  filliping,  toward  Emilia,  with  one  of  those  ancient 
glee-suspensions,  "  Taia-haia-haia-haia,"  etc.,  which  were 
meant  for  jolly  fellows  who  could  bear  anything. 

"  Eh  ?  "  went  Mr.  Pole,  to  elicit  approbation  in  return. 

Emilia  smoothed  the  wrinkles  of  her  face,  and  smiled. 

"  There's  nothing  like  Port,"  said  Mr.  Pole.  "  Get  little 
Pviinningbrook  to  write  a  song :  '  There's  nothing  like  Port.' 
You  put  the  music,  I'll  sing  it." 

"  You  will  ?  "  cried  Emilia. 

"  Yes,  upon  my  honour !  now  my  feet  are  warmer,  I 

by  Jingo !  what's  that  ?  "  and  again  he  wore  that  strange 
calculating  look,  as  if  he  were  being  internally  sounded,  and 
guessed  at  his  probable  depth.  "What  a  twitch!  Some- 
thing wrong  with  my  stomach.  But  a  fellow  must  be  all 
right  when  his  spirits  are  up.  We'll  be  off  as  quick  as  we 
can.  Taia  —  haihaia  —  hum.  If  the  *arce  is  bad,  it's  my 
last  night  of  theatre-going." 

The  delight  at  being  in  a  theatre  kept  Emilia  dumb  when 
she  gazed  on  the  glittering  lights.  After  an  inspection  of 
the  house,  Mr.  Pole  kindly  remarked:  "You  must  marry 
and  get  out  of  this.  This'd  never  do.  All  very  well  in  the 
boxes :  but  on  the  stage  —  oh,  no !  I  shouldn't  like  you  to 
be  there.  If  my  girls  don't  approve  of  the  doctor,  they  shall 
look  out  somebody  for  you.  I  shouldn't  like  you  to  bfc 
painted,  and  rigged  out ;  and  have  to  squall  in  this  sort  of 
place.  Stage  won't  do  for  you.  No,  no ! " 

Emilia  replied  that  she  had  given  up  the  stage;    aud 


204  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

looked  mournfully  at  the  drop-scene,  as  at  a  lost  kingdom, 
scarcely  repressing  her  tears. 

The  orchestra  tuned  and  played  a  light  overture.  She 
followed  up  the  windings  of  the  drop-scene  valley,  meeting 
her  lover  somewhere  beneath  the  castle-ruin,  where  the  river 
narrowed  and  the  trees  intertwined.  On  from  dream  to 
dream  the  music  carried  her,  and  dull  fell  the  first  words 
of  the  farce.  Mr.  Pole  said,  "  Now,  then ! "  and  began  to 
chuckle.  As  the  farce  proceeded,  he  grew  more  serious,  re- 
peating to  Emilia,  quite  anxiously :  "  I  wonder  whether  that 
boy  Braintop's  enjoying  it."  Emilia  glanced  among  the  sea 
of  heads,  and  finally  eliminated  the  head  of  Braintop,  who 
was  respectfully  devoting  his  gaze  to  the  box  she  occupied. 
When  Mr.  Pole  had  been  assisted  to  discover  him  likewise, 
his  attention  alternated  between  Braintop  and  the  stage,  and 
he  expressed  annoyance  from  time  to  time  at  the  extreme 
composure  of  Braintop's  countenance.  "Why  don't  the 
fellow  laugh  ?  Does  he  think  he's  listening  to  a  sermon  ?  " 
Poor  Braintop,  on  his  part,  sat  in  mortal  fear  lest  his  admi- 
ration of  Emilia  was  perceived.  Divided  between  this 
alarming  suspicion,  and  a  doubt  that  the  hair  on  his  fore- 
head was  not  properly  regulated,  he  became  uneasy  and  fit- 
ful in  his  deportment.  His  imagination  plagued  him  with 
a  sense  of  guilt,  which  his  master's  watchfulness  of  him 
increased.  He  took  an  opportunity  furtively  to  eye  him- 
self in  a  pocket-mirror,  and  was  subsequently  haunted  by 
an  additional  dread  that  Emilia  might  have  discovered  the 
instrument,  and  set  him  down  as  a  vain  foolish  dog.  When 
he  saw  her  laugh  he  was  sure  of  it.  Instead  of  responding 
to  Mr.  Pole's  encouragement,  he  assumed  a  taciturn  aspect 
worthy  of  a  youthful  anchorite,  and  continued  to  be  the 
spectator  of  a  scene  to  which  his  soul  was  dead. 

"I  believe  that  fellow's  thinking  of  nothing  but  his 
supper,"  said  Mr.  Pole. 

"  I  dare  say  he  dined  early  in  the  day,"  returned  Emilia, 
remembering  how  hungry  she  used  to  be  in  the  evenings  of 
the  potatoe-days. 

"  Yes,  but  he  might  laugh,  all  the  same."  And  Mr.  Pole 
gave  Emilia  the  sound  advice :  "  Mind  you  never  marry  a 
fellow  who  can't  laugh." 

Braintop  saw  Emilia  smile.     Then,  in  an  instant,  her  face 


A  FABCP  WITHIN  A  FARCE  205 

changed  its  expression  to  one  of  wonder  and  alarm,  and  her 
hands  clasped  together  tightly.  What  on  earth  was  the 
matter  with  her  ?  His  agitated  fancy,  centred  in  himself, 
now  decided  that  some  manifestation  of  most  shocking 
absurdity  had  settled  on  his  forehead,  or  his  hair,  for  he 
was  certain  of  his  neck-tie.  Braintop  had  recourse  to  his 
pocket-mirror  once  more.  It  afforded  him  a  rapid  inter- 
change of  glances  with  a  face  which  he  at  all  events  could 
distinguish  from  the  mass,  though  we  need  not. 

The  youth  was  in  the  act  of  conveying  the  instrument  to 
its  retreat,  when  conscience  sent  his  eyes  toward  Emilia, 
who,  to  his  horror,  beckoned  to  him,  and  touched  Mr.  Pole, 
entreating  him  to  do  the  same.  Mr.  Pole  gesticulated  im- 
periously, whereat  Braintop  rose,  and  requested  his  neigh- 
bour to  keep  his  seat  for  ten  minutes,  as  he  was  going  into 
that  particular  box;  and  "If  I  don't  come  back  in  ten 
minutes,  I  shall  stop  there,"  said  Braintop,  a  little  grandly, 
through  the  confusion  of  his  ideas,  as  he  guessed  at  the 
possible  reasons  for  the  summons. 

Emilia  had  seen  her  father  iu  the  orchestra.  There  he  sat, 
under  the  leader,  sullenly  fiddling  the  prelude  to  the  second 
play,  like  a  man  ashamed,  and  one  of  the  beaten  in  this 
world.  Flight  had  been  her  first  thought.  She  had  cause 
to  dread  him.  The  more  she  lived  and  the  dawning  know- 
ledge of  what  it  is  to  be  a  woman  in  the  world  grew  with 
her,  the  more  she  shrank  from  his  guidance,  and  from  reli- 
ance on  him.  Not  that  she  conceived  him  designedly  base ; 
but  he  outraged  her  now  conscious  delicacy,  and  what  she 
had  to  endure  as  a  girl  seemed  unbearable  to  her  now. 
Besides,  she  felt  a  secret  shuddering  at  nameless  things, 
which  made  her  sick  of  the  thought  of  returning  to  him  and 
his  Jew  friends.  But,  alas !  he  looked  so  miserable  —  a  child 
of  harmony  among  the  sons  of  discord !  He  kept  his  head 
down,  fiddling  like  a  machine.  The  old  potatoe-days  became 
pathetically  edged  with  dead  light  to  Emilia.  She  could  not 
be  cruel.  " When  I  am  safe"  she  laid  stress  on  the  woid  in 
her  mind,  to  awaken  blessed  images,  "  I  will  see  him  often, 
and  make  him  happy ;  but  I  will  let  him  know  that  all  is 
well  with  me  now,  and  that  I  love  him  always." 

So  she  said  to  Mr.  Pole,  "I  know  one  of  those  in  the 
orchestra.  May  I  write  a  word  to  him  on  a  piece  of  paper 
before  we  go  ?  I  wish  to." 


206  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

Mr.  Pole  reflected,  and  seeing  her  earnest  in  her  desire  to 
do  this,  replied:  "  Well,  yes ;  if  you  must — the  girls  are  not 
here." 

Emilia  borrowed  his  pencil-case,  and  wrote :  — 

"  Sandra  is  well,  and  always  loves  her  caro  papa,  and  is 
Improving,  and  will  see  him  soon.  Her  heart  is  full  of  love 
for  him  and  for  her  mama ;  and  if  they  leave  their  lodgings 
they  are  to  leave  word  where  they  go.  Sandra  never  forgets 
Italy,  and  reads  the  papers.  She  has  a  copy  of  the  score  of 
an  unknown  opera  by  our  Andronizetti,  and  studies  it,  and 
anatomy,  English,  French,  and  pure  Italian,  and  can  ride  a 
horse.  She  has  made  rich  friends,  who  love  her.  It  will  not 
be  long,  and  you  will  see  her." 

The  hasty  scrawl  concluded  with  numerous  little  caressing 
exclamations  in  Italian  diminutives.  This  done,  Emilia 
thought :  "  But  he  will  look  up  and  see  me ! "  She  resolved 
not  to  send  it  till  they  were  about  to  quit  the  theatre.  Con- 
sequently, Braintop,  on  his  arrival,  was  told  to  sit  down. 
"  You  don't  look  cheerful  in  the  pit,"  said  Mr.  Pole.  "You're 
above  it  ?  —  eh  ?  You're  all  alike  in  that.  None  of  you  do 
what  your  dads  did.  Up-up-up  ?  You  may  get  too  high, 
eh  ?  —  Gallery  ?  "  and  Mr.  Pole  winked  knowingly  and 
laughed. 

Braintop,  thus  elevated,  tried  his  best  to  talk  to  Emilia, 
who  sat  half  fascinated  with  the  fear  of  seeing  her  father 
lift  his  eyes  and  recognize  her  suddenly.  She  sat  boldly  in 
the  front,  as  before ;  not  being  a  young  woman  to  hide  her 
head  where  there  was  danger,  and  having  perhaps  a  certain 
amount  of  the  fatalism  which  is  often  youth's  philosophy  in 
the  affairs  of  life.  <  If  this  is  to  be,  can  I  avert  it  ? ' 

Mr.  Pole  began  to  nod  at  the  actors,  heavily.  He  said  to 
Emilia,  "  If  there  is  any  fun  going  on,  give  me  a  nudge." 
Emilia  kept  her  eyes  on  her  father  in  the  orchestra,  full  of 
pity  for  his  deplorable  wig,  in  which  she  read  his  later 
domestic  history,  and  sad  tales  of  the  family  dinners. 

"Do  you  see  one  of  those"  —  she  pointed  him  out  to 
Braintop ;  —  "  he  is  next  to  the  leader,  with  his  back  to  us. 
Are  you  sure  ?  I  want  you  to  give  him  this  note  before  he 
goes;  when  we  go.  Will  you  do  it?  I  shall  always  be 
thankful  to  you." 

Considering  what  Braintop  was  ready  to  do  that  he  might 


A  FARCE   WITHIN   A  FARCE  207 

be  remembered  for  a  day  and  no  more,  the  request  was  so 
very  moderate  as  to  be  painful  to  him. 

"  You  will  leave  him  when  you  have  given  it  into  his  hand. 
You  are  not  to  answer  any  questions,"  said  Emilia. 

With  a  reassuring  glance  at  the  musician's  wig,  Brain  top 
bent  his  head. 

"Do  see,"  she  pursued,  "how  differently  he  bows  from 
the  other  men,  though  it  is  only  dance  music.  Oh,  how  his 
ears  are  torn  by  that  violoncello !  He  wants  to  shriek :  — he 
bears  it ! " 

She  threw  a  piteous  glance  across  the  agitated  instruments, 
and  Braintop  was  led  to  inquire:  "Is  he  anything  par- 
ticular ?  " 

"He  can  bring  out  notes  that  are  more  like  honey — if  you 
can  fancy  a  thread  of  honey  drawn  through  your  heart  as  if 
it  would  never  end !  He  is  Italian." 

Braintop  modestly  surveyed  her  hair  and  brows  and  cheeks, 
and  taking  the  print  of  her  eyes  on  his  brain  to  dream  over, 
smelt  at  a  relationship  with  the  wry  black  wig,  which  cast  a 
halo  about  it. 

The  musicians  laid  down  their  instruments,  and  trooped 
out,  one  by  one.  Emilia  perceived  a  man  brush  against  her 
father's  elbow.  Her  father  flicked  at  his  offended  elbow  with 
the  opposite  hand,  and  sat  crumpled  up  till  all  had  passed 
him:  then  went  out  alone.  That  little  action  of  disgust 
showed  her  that  he  had  not  lost  spirit,  albeit  condemned  to 
serve  amongst  an  inferior  race,  promoters  of  discord. 

Just  as  the  third  play  was  opening,  some  commotion  was 
seen  in  the  pit,  rising  from  near  Braintop's  vacated  seat ;  and 
presently  a  thing  that  shone  flashing  to  the  lights,  came  on  from 
hand  to  hand,  each  hand  signalling  subsequently  toward  Mr. 
Pole's  box.  It  approached.  Braintop's  eyes  were  in  wait- 
ing on  Emilia,  who  looked  sadly  at  the  empty  orchestra. 
A  gentleman  in  the  stalls,  a  head  beneath  her,  bowed,  and 
holding  up  a  singular  article,  gravely  said  that  he  had  been 
requested  to  pass  it.  She  touched  Mr.  Pole's  shoulder. 
"  Eh  ?  anything  funny  ?  "  said  he,  and  glanced  around.  He 
was  in  time  to  see  Braintop  lean  hurriedly  over  the  box,  and 
snatch  his  pocket-mirror  from  the  gentleman's  hand.  "  Ha ! 
ha ! "  he  laughed,  as  if  a  comic  gleam  had  illumined  him. 
A  portion  of  the  pit  and  stalls  laughed  too.  Emilia  smiled 


208  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

merrily.  "  What  was  it  ?  "  said  she ;  and  perceiving  many 
faces  beneath  her  red  among  handkerchiefs,  she  was  eager 
to  see  the  thing  that  the  unhappy  Braintop  had  speedily 
secreted. 

"Come,  sir,  let's  see  it!"  quoth  Mr.  Pole,  itching  for  a 
fresh  laugh;  and  in  spite  of  Braintop's  protest,  and  in  de- 
fiance of  his  burning  blush,  he  compelled  the  wretched  youth 
to  draw  it  forth,  and  be  manifestly  convicted  of  vanity. 

A  shout  of  laughter  burst  from  Mr.  Pole.  "  No  wonder 
these  young  sparks  cut  us  all  out.  Lord,  what  cunning  dogs 
they  are!  They  ain't  satisfied  with  seeing  themselves  in 
their  boots,  but  they  —  ha !  ha !  By  George !  We've  got 
the  best  fun  in  our  box.  I  say,  Braintop !  you  ought  to 
have  two,  my  boy.  Then  you'd  see  how  you  looked  behind. 
Ha  —  ha  —  hah!  Never  enjoyed  an  evening  so  much  in 
my  life !  A  looking-glass  for  their  pockets !  ha !  ha !  — 
hooh ! " 

Luckily  the  farce  demanded  laughter,  or  those  parts  of 
the  pit  which  had  not  known  Braintop  would  have  been 
indignant.  Mr.  Pole  became  more  and  more  possessed  by 
the  fun,  as  the  contrast  of  Braintop's  abject  humiliation 
with  this  glaring  testimony  to  his  conceit  tickled  him.  He 
laughed  till  he  complained  of  hunger.  Emilia,  though  she 
thought  it  natural  that  Braintop  should  carry  a  pocket- 
mirror  if  he  pleased,  laughed  from  sympathy ;  until  Brain- 
top,  reduced  to  the  verge  of  forbearance,  stood  up  and 
remarked  that,  to  perform  the  mission  entrusted  to  him, 
he  must  depart  immediately.  Mr.  Pole  was  loth  to  let  him 
go,  but  finally  commending  him  to  a  good  supper,  he  sighed, 
and  declared  himself  a  new  man.  "  Oh !  what  a  jolly  laugh ! 
The  very  thing  I  wanted !  It's  worth  hundreds  to  me.  I 
was  queer  before :  no  doubt  about  that." 

Again  the  ebbing  convulsion  of  laughter  seized  him.  "  I 
feel  as  clear  as  day,"  he  said ;  and  immediately  asked  Emilia 
whether  she  thought  he  would  have  strength  to  get  down 
to  the  cab.  She  took  his  hand,  trying  to  assist  him  from 
the  seat.  He  rose,  and  staggered  an  instant.  "  A  sort  of 
reddish  cloud,"  he  murmured,  feeling  over  his  forehead. 
"Ha!  I  know  what  it  is.  I  want  a  chop.  A  chop  and  a 
song.  But,  I  couldn't  take  you,  and  I  like  you  by  me. 
Good  little  woman ! "  He  patted  Emilia's  shoulder,  pre- 


THE   COMIC   MASK   HAS   KINSHIP   WITH   A   SKULL      209 

paratory  to  leaning  on  it  with  considerable  weight,  and  so 
descended  to  the  cab,  chuckling  ever  and  anon  at  the  remi- 
aiscence  of  Braintop. 

There  was  a  disturbance  in  the  street.  A  man  with  a 
foreign  accent  was  shouting  by  the  door  of  a  neighbouring 
public-house  that  he  would  not  yield  his  hold  of  the  collar 
of  a  struggling  gentleman,  till  the  villain  had  surrendered 
his  child,  whom  he  scandalously  concealed  from  her  parents. 
A  scuffle  ensued,  and  the  foreign  voice  was  heard  again :  — 

"  Wat !  wat !  you  have  de  shame,  you  have  de  pluck,  ah ! 
to  tell  me  you  know  not  where  she  is,  and  you  bring  me  a 
letter  ?  Ho !  —  you  have  de  cheeks  to  tell  me ! " 

This  highly  effective  pluralizing  of  their  peculiar  slang, 
brought  a  roar  of  applause  from  the  crowd  of  Britons. 

"  Only  a  street  row,"  said  Mr.  Pole,  to  calm  Emilia. 

"  Will  he  be  hurt  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  I  see  a  couple  of  policemen  handy,"  said  Mr.  Pole,  and 
Emilia  cowered  down  and  clung  to  his  hand  as  they  drove 
from  the  place. 


CHAPTEE  XXVI 

SUGGESTS    THAT   THE   COMIC    MASK    HAS    SOME   KINSHIP 
WITH   A    SKULL 

IT  was  midnight.  Mr.  Pole  had  appeased  his  imagina- 
tion with  a  chop,  and  was  trying  to  revive  the  memory  of 
his  old  after-theatre  night  carouses  by  listening  to  a  song 
which  Emilia  sang  to  him,  while  he  sipped  at  a  smoking 
mixture,  and  beat  time  on  the  table,  rejoiced  that  he  was 
warm  from  head  to  foot  at  last. 

"That's  a  pretty  song,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "A  very 
pretty  song.  It  does  for  an  old  fellow;  and  so  did  my 
supper :  light  and  wholesome.  I'm  an  old  fellow.  I  ought 
to  know  I've  got  a  grown-up  son  and  grown-up  daughters. 
I  shall  be  a  grandpa,  soon,  I  dare  say.  It's  not  the  thing 
for  me  to  go  about  hearing  glees.  I  had  an  idea  of  it.  I'm 
better  here.  All  I  want  is  to  see  my  children  happy,  mar- 
ried and  settled,  and  comfortable ! " 


210  EMILIA  IN  BNGLAND 

Emilia  stole  up  to  him,  and  dropped  on  one  knee :  "  You 
love  them  ?  " 

"  I  do.  I  love  my  girls  and  my  boy.  And  my  brandy- 
and-water,  do  you  mean  to  say,  you  rogue  ?  " 

"  And  me  ?  "    Emilia  looked  up  at  him  beseechingly. 

"  Yes,  and  you.  I  do.  I  haven't  known  you  long,  my 
dear,  but  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  what  I  can  for  you.  You 
shall  make  my  house  your  home  as  long  as  you  live ;  and  if 
I  say,  make  haste  and  get  married,  it's  only  just  this :  girls 
ought  to  marry  young,  and  not  be  in  an  uncertain  position." 

"  Am  I  worth  having  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  you  are !  I  should  think  so.  You  haven't 
got  a  penny ;  but,  then,  you're  not  for  spending  one.  And  " 
—  Mr.  Pole  nodded  to  right  and  left  like  a  man  who  silenced 
a  host  of  invisible  logicians,  urging  this  and  that  —  "  you're  a 
pleasant  companion,  thrifty,  pretty,  musical :  by  Jingo !  what 
more  do  they  want?  They'll  have  their  song  and  chop  at 
home." 

"  Yes ;  but  suppose  it  depends  upon  their  fathers  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  their  fathers  will  be  fools,  my  dear,  I  can't  help 
'em.  We  needn't  take  'em  in  a  lump :  how  about  the  doc- 
tor ?  I'll  see  him  to-morrow  morning,  and  hear  what  he  has 
to  say.  Shall  I  ?  " 

Mr.  Pole  winked  shrewdly. 

"  You  will  not  make  my  heart  break  ?  "  Emilia's  voice 
sounded  one  low  chord  as  she  neared  the  thing  she  had  to  say. 

"  Bless  her  soul ! "  the  old  merchant  patted  her ;  "  I'm  not 
the  sort  of  man  for  that." 

"Nor  his?" 

"  His  ?  "  Mr.  Pole's  nerves  became  uneasy  in  a  minute, 
at  the  scent  of  a  mystification.  He  dashed  his  handkerchief 
over  his  forehead,  repeating :  "  His  ?  Break  a  man's  heart ! 
I  ?  What's  the  meaning  of  that  ?  For  God's  sake,  don't 
bother  me ! " 

Emilia  was  still  kneeling  before  him,  eyeing  him  with  a 
shadowed  steadfast  air. 

"  I  say  his,  because  his  heart  is  in  mine.  He  has  any  pain 
that  hurts  me." 

"  He  may  be  tremendously  in  love,"  observed  Mr.  Pole ; 
"  but  he  seems  a  deuced  soft  sort  of  a  doctor !  What's  his 
name  ?  " 


THE  COMIC  MASK  HAS   KINSHIP  WITH   A   SKULL      211 

"Hove  Wilfrid." 

The  merchant  appeared  to  be  giving  ear  to  her,  long  after 
the  words  had  been  uttered,  while  there  was  silence  in  the 
room. 

"  Wilfrid  ?  my  son  ?  "  he  cried  with  a  start. 

"  He  is  my  lover." 

"  Damned  rascal ! "  Mr.  Pole  jumped  from  his  chair. 
"  Going  and  playing  with  an  unprotected  girl.  I  can  par- 
don a  young  man's  folly,  but  this  is  infamous.  My  dear 
child,"  he  turned  to  Emilia,  "  if  you've  got  any  notion  about 
my  son  Wilfrid,  you  must  root  it  up  as  quick  as  you  can.  If 
he's  been  behaving  like  a  villain,  leave  him  to  me.  I  detest, 
I  hate,  I  loathe,  I  would  kick,  a  young  man  who  deceives  a 
girl.  Even  if  he's  my  son  ! — more's  the  reason! " 

Mr.  Pole  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  fuming  as 
he  spoke.  Emilia  tried  to  hold  his  hand,  as  he  was  passing, 
but  he  said :  "  There,  my  child !  I'm  very  sorry  for  you,  and 
I'm  damned  angry  with  him.  Let  me  go." 

"  Can  you,  can  you  be  angry  with  him  for  loving  me  ?  " 

"  Deceiving  you,"  returned  Mr.  Pole ;  "  that's  what  it  is. 
And  I  tell  you,  I'd  rather  fifty  times  the  fellow  had  deceived 
me.  Anything  rather  than  that  he  should  take  advantage 
of  a  girl." 

"  Wilfrid  loves  me  and  would  die  for  me,"  said  Emilia. 

"  Now,  let  me  tell  you  the  fact,"  Mr.  Pole  came  to  a  halt, 
fronting  her.  "  My  son  Wilfrid  Pole  may  be  in  love,  as  he 
says,  here  and  there,  but  he  is  engaged  to  be  married  to  a 
lady  of  title.  I  have  his  word  —  his  oath.  He  got  near  a 
thousand  pounds  out  of  my  pocket  the  other  day  on  that 
understanding.  I  don't  speak  about  the  money,  but  —  now 

—  it's  a  lump —  others  would  have  made  a  nice  row  about  it 

—  but  is  he  a  liar  ?    Is  he  a  seducing,  idling,  vagabond  dog  ? 
Is  he  a  contemptible  scoundrel  ?  " 

"  He  is  my  lover,"  said  Emilia. 

She  stood  without  changing  a  feature ;  as  in  a  darkness, 
holding  to  the  one  thing  she  was  sure  of.  Then,  with  a 
sudden  track  of  light  in  her  brain :  "  I  know  the  mistake," 
she  said.  "  Pardon  him.  He  feared  to  offend  you,  because 
you  are  his  father,  and  he  thought  I  might  not  quite  please 
you.  For,  he  loves  me.  He  has  loved  me  from  the  first 
moment  he  saw  me.  He  cannot  be  engaged  to  another.  I 


£12  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

could  bring  him  from  any  woman's  side.  I  have  only  to  say 
to  myself  —  he  must  come  to  me.  For  he  loves  me !  It  is 
not  a  thing  to  doubt." 

Mr.  Pole  turned  and  recommenced  his  pacing  with  hasty 
steps.  All  the  indications  of  a  nervous  tempest  were  on 
him.  Interjecting  half -formed  phrases,  and  now  and  then 
staring  at  .Emilia,  as  at  an  incomprehensible  object,  he 
worked  at  his  hair  till  it  lent  him  the  look  of  one  in  horror 
at  an  apparition. 

"The  fellow's  going  to  marry  Lady  Charlotte  Chilling- 
worth,  I  tell  you.  He  has  asked  my  permission.  The  in- 
fernal scamp!  he  knew  it  pleased  me.  He  bled  me  of  a 
thousand  pounds  only  the  other  day.  I  tell  you,  he's  going 
to  marry  Lady  Charlotte  Chillingworth." 

Emilia  received  this  statement  with  a  most  perplexing 
smile.  She  shook  her  head.  "He  cannot." 

"  Cannot?  I  say  he  shall,  and  must,  and  in  a  couple  of 
months,  too ! " 

The  gravely  sceptical  smile  on  Emilia's  face  changed  to 
a  blank  pallor. 

"  Then,  you  make  him,  sir  —  you?  " 
"He'll  be  a  beggar,  if  he  don't." 
"You  will  keep  him  without  money?" 
Mr.  Pole  felt  that  he  gazed  on  strange  deeps  in  that  girl's 
face.     Her  voice  had  the  wire-like  hum  of  a  rising  wind. 
There  was  no  menace  in  her  eyes:   the  lashes  of  them 
drooped  almost  tenderly,  and  the  lips  were  but  softly  closed. 
The  heaving  of  the  bosom,  though  weighty,  was  regular: 
the  hands  hung  straight  down,  and  were  open.     She  looked 
harmless;  but  his  physical  apprehensiveness  was  sharpened 
by  his  nervous  condition,  and  he  read  power  in  her:  the 
capacity  to  concentrate  all  animal  and  mental  vigour  into 
one  feeling  —  this  being  the  power  of  the  soul. 

So  she  stood,  breathing  quietly,  steadily  eyeing  him. 
"No,  no;"  went  on  Mr.  Pole.     "Come,  come.     We'll 
«it  down,  and  see,  and  talk  —  see  what  can  be  done.     You 
know  I  always  meant  kindly  by  you." 

"Oh,  yes!"  Emilia  musically  murmured,  and  it  cost  her 
nothing  to  smile  again. 

"Now,  tell  me  how  this  began."  Mr.  Pole  settled  him- 
self comfortably  to  listen,  all  irritation  having  apparently 


THE  COMIC  MASK   HAS   KINSHIP  WITH   A   SKULL      213 

left  him,  under  the  influence  of  the  dominant  nature. 
"You  need  not  be  ashamed  to  talk  it  over  to  me." 

"I  am  not  ashamed,"  Emilia  led  off,  and  told  her  tale 
simply,  with  here  and  there  one  of  her  peculiar  illustrations. 
She  had  not  thought  of  love  till  it  came  to  life  suddenly, 
she  said;  and  then  all  the  world  looked  different.  Th« 
relation  of  Wilfrid's  bravery  in  fighting  for  her,  varied  for 
a  single  instant  the  low  monotony  of  her  voice.  At  the 
close  of  the  confession,  Mr.  Pole  wore  an  aspect  of  distress. 
This  creature's  utter  unlikeness  to  the  girls  he  was  accus- 
tomed to,  corroborated  his  personal  view  of  the  case,  that 
Wilfrid  certainly  could  not  have  been  serious,  and  that  she 
was  deluded.  But  he  pitied  her,  for  he  had  sufficient  im- 
agination to  prevent  him  from  despising  what  he  did  not 
altogether  comprehend.  So,  to  fortify  the  damsel,  he  gave 
her  a  lecture:  first,  on  young  men  —  their  selfish  incon- 
siderateness,  their  weakness,  the  wanton  lives  they  led, 
their  trick  of  lying  for  any  sugar-plum,  and  how  they 
laughed  at  their  dupes.  Secondly,  as  to  the  conduct  con- 
sequently to  be  prescribed  to  girls,  who  were  weaker,  frailer, 
by  disposition  more  confiding,  and  who  must  believe  noth- 
ing but  what  they  heard  their  elders  say. 

Emilia  gave  patient  heed  to  the  lecture. 

"  But  I  am  safe, "  she  remarked,  when  he  had  finished ; 
"for  my  lover  is  not  as  those  young  men  are." 

To  speak  at  all,  and  arrange  his  ideas,  was  a  vexation  to 
the  poor  merchant.  He  was  here  like  an  irritable  traveller, 
who  knocks  at  a  gate,  which  makes  as  if  it  opens,  without 
letting  him  in.  Emilia's  nai've  confidence  he  read  as  stu- 
pidity. It  brought  on  a  fresh  access  of  the  nervous  fever 
lurking  in  him,  and  he  cried,  jumping  from  his  seat: 
"Well,  you  can't  have  him,  and  there's  an  end.  You  must 
give  up  —  confound!  why!  do  you  expect  to  have  every- 
thing you  want  at  starting?  There,  my  child  —  but,  upon 
my  honour !  a  man  loses  his  temper  at  having  to  talk  for  an 
hour  or  so,  and  no  result.  You  must  go  to  bed;  and  — 
do  you  say  your  prayers?  Well!  that's  one  way  of  getting 
out  of  it  —  pray  that  you  may  forget  all  about  what's  not 
good  for  you.  Why,  you're  almost  like  a  young  man,  when 
you  set  your  mind  on  a  thing.  Bad !  won't  do !  Say  your 
prayers  regularly.  And,  please,  pour  me  out  a  mouthful 


214  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

of  brandy.  My  hand  trembles  —  I  don't  know  what's  the 
matter  with  it; — just  like  those  rushes  on  the  Thames  I 
used  to  see  when  out  fishing.  No  wind,  and  yet  there  they 
shake  away.  I  wish  it  was  daylight  on  the  old  river  now! 
It's  night,  and  no  mistake.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  a  fellow 
twirling  a  stick  over  my  head.  The  rascal's  been  at  it  for 
the  last  month.  There,  stop  where  you  are,  my  dear. 
Don't  begin  to  dance !  " 

He  pressed  at  his  misty  eyes,  half  under  the  impression 
that  she  was  taking  a  succession  of  dazzling  leaps  in  air. 
Terror  of  an  impending  blow,  which  he  associated  with 
Emilia's  voice,  made  him  entreat  her  to  be  silent.  After 
a  space,  he  breathed  a  long  breath  of  relief,  saying :  "  No, 
no;  you're  firm  enough  on  your  feet.  I  don't  think  I  ever 
saw  you  dance.  My  girls  have  given  it  up.  What  led  me 
to  think  .  .  .  but,  let's  to  bed,  and  say  our  prayers.  I 
want  a  kiss." 

Emilia  kissed  him  on  the  forehead.  The  symptoms  of 
illness  were  strange  to  her,  and  passed  unheeded.  She  was 
too  full  of  her  own  burning  passion  to  take  evidence  from 
her  sight.  The  sun  of  her  world  was  threatened  with  ex- 
tinction. She  felt  herself  already  a  wanderer  in  a  land  of 
tombs,  where  none  could  say  whether  morning  had  come  or 
gone.  Intensely  she  looked  her  misery  in  the  face;  and  it 
was  as  a  voice  that  said,  "No  sun:  never  sun  any  more," 
to  her.  But  a  blue-hued  moon  slipped  from  among  the 
clouds,  and  hung  in  the  black  outstretched  fingers  of  the 
tree  of  darkness,  fronting  troubled  waters.  "This  is  thy 
light  for  ever!  thou  shalt  live  in  thy  dream."  So,  as  in  a 
prison-house,  did  her  soul  now  recall  the  blissful  hours  by 
Wilming  Weir.  She  sickened  but  an  instant.  The  blood 
in  her  veins  was  too  strong  a  tide  for  her  to  crouch  in  that 
imagined  corpse-like  universe  which  alternates  with  an 
irradiated  Eden  in  the  brain  of  the  passionate  young. 

"Why  should  I  lose  him! "     The  dry  sob  choked  her. 

She  struggled  with  the  emotion  in  her  throat,  and  Mr. 
Pole,  who  had  previously  dreaded  supplication  and  appeals 
for  pity,  caressed  her.  Instantly  the  flood  poured  out. 

"  You  are  not  cruel.  I  knew  it.  I  should  have  died,  if 
you  had  come  between  us.  Oh,  Wilfrid's  father,  I  love 
you !  —  I  have  never  had  a  very  angry  word  on  my  mouth. 


THE   COMIC  MASK  HAS  KINSHIP   WITH   A  SKULL      215 

Think!  think!  if  you  had  made  me  curse  you.  For,  I 
could!  You  would  have  stopped  my  life,  and  Wilfrid's. 
What  would  our  last  thoughts  have  been?  We  could  not 
have  forgiven  you.  Take  up  dead  birds  killed  by  frost. 
You  cry:  Cruel  winter!  murdering  cold!  But  I  knew 
better.  You  are  Wilfrid's  father,  whom  I  can  kneel  to. 
My  lover's  father!  my  own  father!  my  friend  next  to 
heaven !  Oh !  bless  my  love  for  him.  You  have  only  to 
know  what  my  love  for  him  is !  The  thought  of  losing  him 
goes  like  perishing  cold  through  my  bones;  —  my  heart 
jerks,  as  if  it  had  to  pull  up  my  body  from  the  grave  every 
time  it  beats.  ..." 

"  God  in  heaven !  "  cried  the  horrified  merchant,  on  whose 
susceptible  nerves  these  images  wrought  with  such  a  force 
that  he  absolutely  had  dread  of  her.  He  gasped,  and  felt 
at  his  heart,  and  then  at  his  pulse;  rubbed  the  moisture 
from  his  forehead,  and  throwing  a  fixedly  wild  look  on  her 
eyes,  he  jumped  up  and  left  her  kneeling. 

His  caress  had  implied  mercy  to  Emilia :  for  she  could 
not  reconcile  it  with  the  rejection  of  the  petition  of  her 
soul.  She  was  now  a  little  bewildered  to  see  him  trotting 
the  room,  frowning  and  blinking,  and  feeling  at  one  wrist, 
at  momentary  pauses,  all  his  words  being :  "  Let's  be  quiet. 
Let's  be  good.  Let's  go  to  bed,  and  say  our  prayers;" 
mingled  with  short  ejaculations. 

"I  may  say,"  she  intercepted  him,  "I  may  tell  my  dear 
lover  that  you  bless  us  both,  and  that  we  are  to  live.  Oh, 
speak !  sir !  let  me  hear  you !  " 

"Let's  go  to  bed,"  iterated  Mr. Pole.  "Come,  candles! 
do  light  them.  In  God's  name!  light  candles.  And  let's 
be  off  and  say  our  prayers." 

"You  consent,  sir?" 

"What's  that  your  heart  does?"  Mr.  Pole  stopped  to 
enquire;  adding:  "There,  don't  tell  me.  You've  played 
the  devil  with  mine.  Who'd  ever  have  made  me  believe 
that  I  should  feel  more  at  ease  running  up  and  down  the 
room,  than  seated  in  my  arm-chair!  Among  the  wonders 
of  the  world,  that!" 

Emilia  put  up  her  lips  to  kiss  him,  as  he  passed  her. 
There  was  something  deliciously  soothing  and  haven-like 
to  him  in  the  aspect  of  her  calmness. 


216  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

"Now,  you'll  be  a  good  girl,"  said  he,  when  he  had 
taken  her  salute. 

"And  you,"  she  rejoined,  "will  be  happier!  " 

His  voice  dropped.  "  If  you  go  on  like  this,  you've  done 
for  me!" 

But  she  could  make  no  guess  at  any  tragic  meaning  in 
his  words.  "  My  father  -  •  let  me  call  you  so !  " 

"  Will  you  see  that  you  can't  have  him?"  he  stamped  the 
syllables  into  her  ears :  and,  with  a  notion  of  there  being  a 
foreign  element  about  her,  repeated:  —  "No!  —  not  have 
him !  —  not  yours !  —  somebody  else's ! " 

This  was  clear  enough. 

"Only  you  can  separate  us,"  said  Emilia,  with  a  brow 
levelled  intently. 

"Well,  and  I"  —  Mr.  Pole  was  pursuing  in  the  gusty 
energy  of  his  previous  explanation.  His  eyes  met  Emilia's, 
gravely  widening.  "I  —  I'm  very  sorry,"  he  broke  down; 
"  upon  my  soul,  I  am!  " 

The  old  man  went  to  the  mantel-piece  and  leaned  his 
elbow  before  the  glass. 

Emilia's  bosom  began  to  rise  again. 

She  was  startled  to  hear  him  laugh.  A  slight  melan- 
choly little  burst;  and  then  a  louder  one,  followed  by  a 
full-toned  laughter  that  fell  short  and  showed  the  heart  was 
not  in  it. 

"That  boy  Braintop!  What  fun  it  was!  "  he  said,  look- 
ing all  the  while  into  the  glass.  "  Why  can't  we  live  in 
peace,  and  without  bother!  Is  your  candle  alight,  my 
dear?" 

Emilia  now  thought  that  he  was  practising  evasion. 

"I  will  light  it,  "she  said. 

Mr.  Pole  gave  a  wearied  sigh.  His  head  being  still  turned 
to  the  glass,  he  listened  with  a  shrouded  face  for  her  move- 
ments: saying,  "Good  night;  good  night;  I'll  light  my 
own.  There's  a  dear!  " 

A  shouting  was  in  his  ears,  which  seemed  to  syllable 
distinctly:  "If  she  goes  at  once,  I'm  safe." 

The  sight  of  pain  at  all  was  intolerable  to  him;  but  he 
liad  a  prophetic  physical  warning  now  that  to  witness  pain 
inflicted  by  himself  would  be  more  than  he  could  endure. 

Emilia  breathed  a  low,  "Good  night." 


THE  COMIC  MASK  HAS   KINSHIP   WITH   A  SKULL      217 

"Good  night,  my  love  —  all  right  to-morrow !:;  he  re- 
plied, briskly ;  and  remorse  touching  his  kind  heart  as  the 
music  of  her  'good  night'  penetrated  to  it  by  thrilling 
avenues,  he  added  injudiciously:  "Don't  fret.  We'll  see 
what  we  can  do.  Soon  make  matters  comfortable." 

"I  love  you,  and  I  know  you  will  not  stab  me,"  she 
answered. 

"No;  certainly  not,"  said  Mr.  Pole,  still  keeping  his 
back  to  her. 

Struck  with  a  sudden  anticipating  fear  of  having  to  go 
through  this  scene  on  the  morrow,  he  continued :  "  No  mis- 
understands, mind!  Wilfrid's  done  with." 

There  was  a  silence.  He  trusted  she  might  be  gone. 
Turning  round,  he  faced  her;  the  light  of  the  candle  throw- 
ing her  pale  visage  into  ghostly  relief. 

"Where  is  sleep  for  you  if  you  part  us?" 

Mr.  Pole  flung  up  his  arms.  "  I  insist  upon  your  going 
to  bed.  Why  shouldn't  I  sleep?  Child's  folly!  " 

Though  he  spoke  so,  his  brain  was  in  strings  to  his 
timorous  ticking  nerves ;  and  he  thought  that  it  would  be 
well  to  propitiate  her  and  get  her  to  utter  some  words  that 
would  not  haunt  his  pillow. 

"My  dear  girl!  it's  not  my  doing.  I  like  you.  I  wish 
you  well  and  happy.  Very  fond  of  you;  —  blame  circum- 
stances, not  me."  Then  he  murmured:  "Are  black  spots 
on  the  eyelids  a  bad  sign?  I  see  big  flakes  of  soot  falling 
in  a  dark  room." 

Emilia's  mazed  look  fleeted.  "You  come  between  us, 
sir,  because  I  have  no  money?" 

"  I  tell  you  it's  the  boy's  only  chance  to  make  his  hit 
now."  Mr.  Pole  stamped  his  foot  angrily. 

"And  you  make  my  Cornelia  marry,  though  she  loves 
another,  as  Wilfrid  loves  me,  and  if  they  do  not  obey  you 
they  are  to  be  beggars!  Is  it  you  who  can  pray?  Can  you 
ever  have  good  dreams?  I  saved  my  father  from  the  sin, 
by  leaving  him.  He  wished  to  sell  me.  But  my  poor 
father  had  no  money  at  all,  and  I  can  pardon  him.  Money 
was  a  bright  thing  to  him:  like  other  things  to  us.  Mr. 
Pole !  What  will  anyone  say  for  you !  " 

The  unhappy  merchant  had  made  vehement  efforts  to 
perplex  his  hearing,  that  her  words  might  be  empty  and 


218  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

not  future  dragons  round  his  couch.  He  was  looking  for- 
ward to  a  night  of  sleep  as  a  cure  for  the  evil  sensations 
besetting  him  — his  only  chance.  The  chance  was  going; 
and  with  the  knowledge  that  it  was  unjustly  torn  from  him 
—  this  one  gleam  of  clear  reason  in  his  brain  undimmed  by 
the  irritable  storm  which  plucked  him  down  —  he  cried  out, 
to  clear  himself :  — 

"  They  are  beggars,  both,  and  all,  if  they  don't  marry 
before  two  months  are  out.  I'm  a  beggar  then.  I'm 
ruined.  I  shan't  have  a  penny.  I'm  in  a  workhouse. 
They  are  in  good  homes.  They  are  safe,  and  thank  their 
old  father.  Now,  then;  now.  Shall  I  sleep?" 

Emilia  caught  his  staggering  arm.  The  glazed  light  of 
his  eyes  went  out.  He  sank  into  a  chair;  white  as  if  life 
had  issued  with  the  secret  of  his  life.  Wonderful  varying 
expressions  had  marked  his  features  and  the  tones  of  his 
voice,  while  he  was  uttering  that  sharp,  succinct  confession ; 
so  that,  strange  as  it  sounded,  every  sentence  fixed  itself  on 
her  with  incontrovertible  force,  and  the  meaning  of  the 
whole  flashed  through  her  mind.  It  struck  her  too  awfully 
for  speech.  She  held  fast  to  his  nerveless  hand,  and  kneel- 
ing before  him,  listened  for  his  long  reluctant  breathing. 

The  '  Shall  I  sleep  ? '  seemed  answered. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

SMALL    LIFE   AT   BROOKFIELD 

days  after  the  foregoing  scene,  Brookfield  was  un- 
conscious of  what  had  befallen  it.  Wilfrid  was  trying  his 
yacht,  the  ladies  were  preparing  for  the  great  pleasure- 
gathering  on  Bes  worth  Lawn,  and  shaping  astute  designs  to 
exclude  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Chump,  for  which  they  partly 
condemned  themselves ;  but,  as  they  said,  "  Only  hear  her  ! " 
The  exciteable  woman  was  swelling  from  conjecture  to  cer- 
tainty on  a  continuous  public  cry  of,  "  Ton  my  hon'r !  —  d'ye 
think  little  Belloni's  gone  and  marrud  Pole  ?  " 
Emilia's  supposed  flight  had  deeply  grieved  the  ladies, 


SMALL  LIFE  AT  llSOOKFIELD  219 

when  alarm  and  suspicion  had  subsided.  Fear  of  some 
wretched  male  baseness  on  the  part  of  their  brother  was 
happily  diverted  by  a  letter,  wherein  he  desired  them  to 
come  to  him  speedily.  They  attributed  her  conduct  to  dread 
of  Mr.  Pericles.  That  fervid  devotee  of  Euterpe  received 
the  tidings  with  an  obnoxious  outburst,  which  made  them 
seriously  ask  themselves  (individually  and  in  secret)  whether 
he  was  not  a  moneyed  brute,  and  nothing  more.  Nor  could 
they  satisfactorily  answer  the  question.  He  raved :  "  You 
let  her  go.  Ha !  what  creatures  you  are  —  hein  ?  But  you 
find  not  anozer  in  fifty  years,  I  say ;  and  here  you  stop,  and 
forty  hours  pass  by,  and  not  a  sing  in  motion.  What  blood 
you  have !  It  is  water  —  not  blood.  Such  a  voice,  a  verve, 
a  style,  an  eye,  a  devil,  zat  girl !  and  all  drawn  up  and  out 
before  ze  time  by  a  man :  she  is  spoilt ! " 

He  exhibited  an  anguish  that  they  were  not  able  to  com- 
miserate. Certain  expressions  falling  from  him  led  them 
to  guess  that  he  had  set  some  plot  in  motion,  which  Emilia's 
flight  had  arrested ;  but  his  tragic  outcries  were  all  on  the 
higher  ground  of  the  loss  to  Art.  They  were  glad  to  see 
him  go  from  the  house.  Soon  he  returned  to  demand  Wil- 
frid's address.  Arabella  wrote  it  out  for  him  with  rebuking 
composure.  Then  he  insisted  upon  having  Captain  Gam- 
bier's,  whom  he  described  as  "  ce  nonchalant  dandy." 

"Him  you  will  have  a  better  opportunity  of  seeing  by 
waiting  here,"  said  Adela ;  and  the  captain  came  before  Mr. 
Pericles  had  retreated.  "Ce  nonchalant"  was  not  quite 
true  to  his  title,  when  he  heard  that  Emilia  had  flown.  He 
did  not  say  much,  but  iterated  "  Gone ! "  with  an  elegant 
frown,  adding,  "  She  must  come  back,  you  know !  "  and  was 
evidently  more  than  commonly  puzzled  and  vexed,  pursuing 
the  strain  in  a  way  that  satisfied  Mr.  Pericles  more  thor- 
oughly than  Adela. 

"  She  shall  come  back  as  soon  as  she  has  a  collar,"  growled 
Mr.  Pericles,  meaning  captivity. 

"  If  she'd  onnly  come  back  with  her  own  maiden  name," 
interjected  Mrs.  Chump,  "  I'll  give  her  a  character ;  but, 
upon  my  hon'r  —  d'ye  think  ut  possible,  now  .  .  .  ?  " 

Arabella  talked  over  her,  and  rescued  her  father's  name. 

The  noisy  sympathy  and  wild  speculations  of  the  Tinleys 
and  Copleys  had  to  be  endured.  On  the  whole,  the  feeling 


220  EMUJA  El  ENGLAND 

toward  Emilia  was  kind,  and  the  hope  that  she  would  come 
to  no  harm  was  fervently  expressed  by  all  the  ladies  ;  fre- 
quently enough,  also,  to  show  the  opinion  that  it  might  easily 
happen.  On  such  points  Mrs.  Chump  never  failed  to  bring 
the  conversation  to  a  block.  Supported  as  they  were  by 
Captain  Gambier,  Edward  Buxley,  Freshfiehi  Sumner,  and 
more  than  once  by  Si*  Twickenham  (whom  Freshfield, 
launching  angry  shafts,  now  called  the  semi-betrothed,  the 
statistical  cripple,  and  other  strong  things  that  show  a 
developing  genius  for  street-cries  and  hustings-epithets  in 
every  member  of  the  lists  of  the  great  Eejected,  or  of  the 
jilted  who  can  affect  to  be  philosophical),  notwithstanding 
these  aids,  the  ladies  of  Brookfield  were  crushed  by  Mrs. 
Chump.  Her  main  offence  was,  that  she  revived  for  them 
so  much  of  themselves  that  they  had  buried.  "  Oh  !  the  un- 
utterably sordid  City  life ! "  It  hung  about  her  like  a  smell 
of  London  smoke.  As  a  mere  animal,  they  passed  her  by, 
and  had  almost  come  to  a  state  of  mind  to  pass  her  off.  It 
was  the  phantom,  or  rather  the  embodiment  of  their  First 
Circle,  that  they  hated  in  the  woman.  She  took  heroes  from 
the  journals  read  by  servant-maids;  she  thought  highly  of 
the  Court  of  Aldermen ;  she  went  on  public  knees  to  the 
aristocracy;  she  was  proud,  in  fact,  of  all  City  appetites. 
What,  though  none  saw  the  peculiar  sting  ?  They  felt  it ; 
and  one  virtue  in  possessing  an  'ideal'  is  that,  lodging 
in  you  as  it  does,  it  insists  upon  the  interior  being  fur- 
nished by  your  personal  satisfaction,  and  not  by  the  blind- 
ness or  stupidity  of  the  outer  world.  Thus,  in  one  direc- 
tion, an  ideal  precludes  humbug.  The  ladies  might  desire 
to  cloak  facts,  but  they  had  no  pleasure  in  deception.  They 
had  the  feminine  power  of  extinguishing  things  disagree- 
able, so  long  as  nature  or  the  fates  did  them  no  violence. 
When  these  forces  sent  an  emissary  to  confound  them,  as 
was  clearly  the  case  with  Mrs.  Chump,  they  fought.  The 
dreadful  creature  insisted  upon  shows  of  maudlin  affection 
that  could  not  be  accorded  to  her,  so  that  she-  existed  in  a 
condition  of  preternatural  sensitiveness.  Among  ladies  pre- 
tending to  dignity  of  life,  the  horror  of  acrid  complaints 
alternating  with  public  offers  of  love  from  a  gross  woman, 
may  be  pictured  in  the  mind's  eye.  The  absence  of  Mr.  Pole 
and  Wilfrid,  which  caused  Mrs.  Chump  to  chafe  at  tae  re- 


SMALL  LIFE  AT   BROOKFIELD  221 

straint  imposed  by  the  presence  of  males  to  whom  she  might 
not  speak  endearingly,  and  deprived  the  ladies  of  proper 
counsel,  and  what  good  may  be  at  times  in  masculine  author- 
ity, led  to  one  fierce  battle,  wherein  the  great  shot  was  fired 
on  both  sides.  Mrs.  Chump  was  requested  to  leave  the 
house:  she  declined.  Interrogated  as  to  whether  she  re- 
mained as  an  enemy,  knowing  herself  to  be  so  looked  upon, 
she  said  that  she  remained  to  save  them  from  the  dangers 
they  invited.  Those  dangers  she  named,  observing  that  Mrs. 
Lupin,  their  aunt,  might  know  them,  but  was  as  liable  to  be 
sent  to  sleep -by  a  fellow  with  a  bag  of  jokes  as  a  watch- 
dog to  be  quieted  by  a  bone.  The  allusion  here  was  to 
Mrs.  Lupin's  painful,  partially  inexcusable,  incurable  sense 
of  humour,  especially  when  a  gleam  of  it  led  to  the  prohibited 
passages  of  life.  The  poor  lady  was  afflicted  so  keenly  that, 
in  instances  where  one  of  her  sex  and  position  in  the  social 
scale  is  bound  to  perish  rather  than  let  even  the  shadow  of  a 
laugh  appear,  or  any  sign  of  fleshly  perception  or  sympathy 
peep  out,  she  was  seen  to  be  mutely,  shockingly,  penitentially 
convulsed :  a  degrading  sight.  And  albeit  repeatedly  remon- 
strated with,  she,  upon  such  occasions,  invariably  turned  im- 
ploring glances  —  a  sort  of  frowning  entreaty  —  to  the  ladies, 
or  to  any  of  her  sex  present.  "  Did  you  not  see  that  ?  Oh ! 
can  you  resist  it  ?  "  she  -seemed  to  gasp,  as  she  made  those 
fruitless  efforts  to  drag  them  to  her  conscious  level.  "  Sink 
thou,  if  thou  wilt,"  was  the  phrase  indicated  to  her.  She 
had  once  thought  her  propensity  innocent  enough,  and  enjoy- 
able. Her  nieces  had  almost  cured  her,  by  sitting  on  her, 
until  Mrs.  Chump  came  to  make  her  worse  than  ever.  It  is 
to  be  feared  that  Mrs.  Chump  was  beginning  to  abuse  her 
power  over  the  little  colourless  lady.  We  cannot,  when  we 
find  ourselves  possessed  of  the  gift  of  sending  a  creature 
into  convulsions,  avoid  exercising  it.  Mrs.  Lupin  was  one  of 
the  victims  of  the  modern  feminine  '  ideal.'  She  was  in  mind 
merely  a  woman ;  devout  and  charitable,  as  her  nieces  ad- 
mitted; but  radically — what?  They  did  not  like  to  think, 
or  to  say,  what ;  —  repugnant,  seemed  to  be  the  word.  A 
woman  who  consented  to  perceive  the  double-meaning,  who 
acknowledged  its  suggestions  of  a  violation  of  decency  laugh- 
able, and  who  could  not  restrain  laughter,  was,  in  their  judge- 
ment,-righteously  a  victim.  After  signal  efforts  to  lift  her 


222  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

up,  the  verdict  was  that  their  Aunt  Lupin  did  no  credit  to 
her  sex.  If  we  conceive  a  timorous  little  body  of  finely- 
strung  nerves,  inclined  to  be  gay,  and  shrewdly  apprehensive, 
but;  depending  for  her  opinion  of  herself  upon  those  about 
her,  we  shall  see  that  Mrs.  Lupin's  life  was  one  of  sorrow  and 
scourges  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  t  ideal.'  Never  did  nun  of 
the  cloister  fight  such  a  fight  with  the  flesh,  .as  this  poor  little 
woman,  that  she  might  not  give  offence  to  the  Tribunal  of  the 
Nice  Feelings  :  —  which  leads  us  to  ask,  "  Is  sentimentalism 
in  our  modern  days  taking  the  place  of  monasticism  to  mor- 
tify our  poor  humanity  ?  "  The  sufferings  of  the  Three  of 
Brookfield  under  Mrs.  Chump  were  not  comparable  to  Mrs. 
Lupin's.  The  good  little  woman's  soul  withered  at  the  self- 
contempt  to  which  her  nieces  helped  her  daily.  Laughter,  far 
from  expanding  her  heart  and  invigorating  her  frame,  was  a 
thing  that  she  felt  herself  to  be  nourishing  as  a  traitor  in  her 
bosom :  and  the  worst  was,  that  it  came  upon  her  like  a  reck- 
less intoxication  at  times,  possessing  her  as  a  devil  might ;  and 
justifying  itself,  too,  and  daring  to  say,  "  Am  I  not  Nature  ?  " 
Mrs.  Lupin  shrank  from  the  remembrance  of  those  moments. 

In  another  age,  the  scenes  between  Mrs.  Lupin  and  Mrs. 
Chump,  greatly  significant  for  humanity  as  they  are,  will  be 
given  without  offence  on  one  side  or  martyrdom  on  the  other. 
At  present,  and  before  our  sentimentalists  are  a  concrete,  it 
would  be  profitless  rashness  to  depict  them.  When  the  great 
shots  were  fired  off  (Mrs.  Chump  being  requested  to  depart, 
and  refusing)  Mrs.  Lupin  fluttered  between  the  belligerents, 
doing  her  best  to  be  a  medium  for  the  restoration  of  peace. 
In  repeating  Mrs.  Chump's  remarks,  which  were  rendered 
purposely  strong  with  Irish  spice  by  that  woman,  she  choked; 
and  when  she  conveyed  to  Mrs.  Chump  the  counter-remarks 
of  the  ladies,  she  provoked  utterances  that  almost  killed  her. 
A  sadder  life  is  not  to  be  imagined.  The  perpetual  irritation 
of  a  desire  to  indulge  in  her  mortal  weakness,  and  listening 
to  the  sleepless  conscience  that  kept  watch  over  it ;  her  cer- 
tainty that  it  would  be  better  for  her  to  laugh  right  out,  and 
yet  her  incapacity  to  contest  the  justice  of  her  nieces'  rebuke ; 
her  struggle  to  resist  Mrs.  Chump,  which  ended  in  a  sensa- 
tion of  secret  shameful  liking  for  her  —  all  these  warring 
influences  within  were  seen  in  her  behaviour. 

"  I  have  always  said,"  observed  Cornelia, "  that  she  labours 


SMALL  LIFE  AT   BROOKFIBLD  223 

under  a  disease."  What  is  more,  she  had  always  told  Mrs. 
Lupin  as  much,  and  her  sisters  had  echoed  her.  Three  to 
one  in  such  a  case  is  a  severe  trial  to  the  reason  of  solitary 
one.  And  Mrs.  Lupin's  case  was  peculiar,  inasmuch  as  the 
more  she  yielded  to  Chump-temptation  and  eased  her  heart 
of  its  load  of  laughter,  the  more  her  heart  cried  out  against 
her  and  subscribed  to  the  scorn  of  her  nieces.  Mrs.  Chump 
acted  a  demon's  part :  she  thirsted  for  Mrs.  Lupin  that  she 
might  worry  her.  Hitherto  she  had  not  known  that  any- 
thing peculiar  lodged  in  her  tongue,  and  with  no  other  per- 
son did  she  think  of  using  it  to  produce  a  desired  effect ;  but 
now  the  scenes  in  Brookfield  became  hideous  to  the  ladies, 
and  not  wanting  in  their  trials  to  the  facial  muscles  of  the 
gentlemen.  A  significant  sign  of  what  the  ladies  were  en- 
during was,  that  they  ceased  to  speak  of  it  in  their  consulta- 
tions. It  is  a  blank  period  in  the  career  of  young  creatures 
when  a  fretting  wretchedness  forces  them  out  of  their 
dreams  to  action ;  and  it  is  then  that  they  will  do  things 
that,  seen  from  the  outside  (i.e.,  in  the  conduct  of  others), 
they  would  hold  to  be  monstrous,  all  but  impossible.  Or  how 
could  Cornelia  persuade  herself,  as  she  certainly  persuaded 
Sir  Twickenham  and  the  world  about  her,  that  she  had  a 
contemplative  pleasure  in  his  society  ?  Arabella  drew  nearer 
to  Edward  Buxley,  whom  she  had  not  treated  well,  and  who, 
as  she  might  have  guessed,  had  turned  his  thoughts  toward 
Adela ;  though  clearly  without  encouragement.  Adela  indeed 
said  openly  to  her  sisters,  with  a  Gallic  ejaculation, "  Edward 
follows  me,  do  you  know;  and  he  has  adopted  a  sort  of 
Sicilian-vespers  look  whenever  he  meets  me  with  Captain 
Gam  bier.  I  could  forgive  him  if  he  would  draw  out  a  dagger 
and  be  quite  theatrical ;  but,  behold,  we  meet,  and  my  bour- 
geois grunts  and  stammers,  and  seems  to  beg  us  to  believe 
that  he  means  nothing  whatever  by  his  behaviour.  Can 
you  convey  to  his  City-intelligence  that  he  is  just  a  trifle  ill- 
bred  ?  " 

Now,  Arabella  had  always  seen  Edward  as  a  thing  that 
was  her  own,  which  accounts  for  the  treatment  to  which  he 
had  been  subjected.  A  quick  spur  of  jealousy  —  a  new  sen- 
sation —  was  the  origin  of  her  leaning  toward  Edward ;  and 
the  plea  of  saving  Adela  from  annoyance  excused  and  cov- 
ered it.  He,  for  his  part,  scarcely  concealed  his  irritation. 


224  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND      . 

until  a  little  scented  twisted  note  was  put  in  his  hand,  which 
said,  "  You  are  as  anxious  as  I  can  be  about  our  sweet  lost 
Emilia !  We  believe  ourselves  to  be  on  her  traces."  This 
gave  him  wonderful  comfort.  It  put  Adela  in  a  beautiful 
fresh  light  as  a  devoted  benefactress  and  delicious  intrigante. 
He  threw  off  some  of  his  most  telling  caricatures  at  this 
period.  Adela  had  divintd  that  Captain  Gambier  suspected 
his  cousin  Merthyr  Powys  of  abstracting  Emilia,  that  he 
might  shield  her  from  Mr.  Pericles.  The  captain  confessed 
it,  calmly  blushing,  and  that  he  was  in  communication  with 
Miss  Georgiana  Ford,  Mr.  Powys's  half-sister ;  about  whom 
Adela  was  curious,  until  the  captain  ejaculated,  "A  saint ! " 
—  whereat  she  was  satisfied,  knowing  by  instinct  that  the 
preference  is  for  sinners.  Their  meetings  usually  referred 
to  Emilia ;  and  it  was  astonishing  how  willingly  the  captain 
would  talk  of  her.  Adela  repeated  to  herself,  "  This  is  our 
mask,"  and  thus  she  made  it  the  captain's ;  for  it  must  be 
said  that  the  conquering  captain  had  never  felt  so  full  of 
pity  to  any  girl  or  woman  to  whom  he  fancied  he  had  done 
damage,  as  to  Emilia.  He  enjoyed  a  most  thorough  belief 
that  she  was  growing  up  to  perplex  him  with  her  love,  and 
he  had  not  consequently  attempted  to  precipitate  the  meas- 
ure ;  but  her  flight  had  prematurely  perplexed  him.  In  grave 
debate  with  the  ends  of  his  moustache  for  a  term,  he  con- 
cluded by  accusing  Merthyr  Powys ;  and  with  a  little  feeling 
of  spite  not  unknown  to  masculine  dignity,  he  wrote  to 
Merthyr' s  half-sister — "  merely  to  inquire,  being  aware  that 
whatever  he  does  you  have  been  consulted  on,  and  the  friends 
of  this  Miss  Belloni  are  distressed  by  her  absence." 

The  ladies  of  Brookfield  were  accustomed  to  their  father's 
occasional  unpremeditated  absences,  and  neither  of  them 
had  felt  an  apprehension  which  she  could  not  dismiss,  until 
one  morning  Mr.  Powys  sent  up  his  card  to  Arabella,  request- 
ing permission  to  speak  with  her  alone. 


QBORQIANA   ITORD  225 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 

GEORGIANA    FORD 

GEOKGIANA  FORD  would  have  had  little  claim  among  the 
fair  saints  to  be  accepted  by  them  as  one  of  their  order. 
Her  reputation  for  coldness  was  derived  from  the  fact  of 
her  having  stood  a  siege  from  Captain  Gambier.  But  she 
loved  a  creature  of  earth  too  well  to  put  up  a  hand  for 
saintly  honours.  The  passion  of  her  life  centred  in  devo- 
tion to  her  half-brother.  Those  who  had  studied  her  said, 
perhaps  with  a  touch  of  malignity,  that  her  religious  instinct 
had  its  source  in  a  desire  to  gain  some  place  of  intercession 
for  him.  Merthyr  had  leaned  upon  it  too  often  to  doubt 
the  strength  of  it,  whatever  its  purity  might  be.  She,  when 
barely  more  than  a  child  (a  girl  of  sixteen),  had  followed 
him  over  the  then  luckless  Italian  fields  —  sacrificing  as 
much  for  a  cause  that  she  held  to  be  trivial,  as  he  in  the 
ardour  of  his  half-fanatical  worship.  Her  theory  was 
"  These  Italians  are  in  bondage,  and  since  heaven  permits 
it,  there  has  been  guilt.  By  endurance  they  are  strength- 
ened, by  suffering  chastened;  so  let  them  endure  and  suffer." 
She  would  cleave  to  this  view  with  many  variations  of  pity. 
Merthyr's  experience  was  tolerant  to  the  weaker  vessel's 
young  delight  in  power,  which  makes  her  sometimes,  though 
sweet  and  merciful  by  nature,  enunciate  Hebraic  severities 
oracularly.  He  smiled,  and  was  never  weary  of  pointing  out 
practical  refutations.  Whereat  she  said,  "Will  a  thousand 
instances  change  the  principle?"  When  the  brain,  and 
especially  the  fine  brain  of  a  woman,  first  begins  to  act  for 
itself,  the  work  is  of  heavy  labour ;  she  finds  herself  plung- 
ing abroad  on  infinite  seas,  and  runs  speedily  into  the 
anchorage  of  dogmas,  obfuscatory  saws,  and  what  she  calls 
principles.  Here  she  is  safe;  but  if  her  thinking  was  not 
originally  the  mere  action  of  lively  blood  upon  that  battery 
of  intelligence,  she  will  by-and-by  reflect  that  it  is  not  well 
for  a  live  thing  to  be  tied  to  a  dead,  and  that  long  clinging 
to  safety  confesses  too  much.  Merthyr  waited  for  Georgiana 
patiently.  On  all  other  points  they  were  heart-in-heart. 


226  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

It  was  her  pride  to  say  that  she  loved  him  with  no  sense  of 
jealousy,  and  prayed  that  he  might  find  a  woman,  in  plain 
words,  worthy  of  him.  This  woman  had  not  been  found; 
she  confessed  that  she  had  never  seen  her. 

Georgiana  received  Captain  Gambier's  communication  in 
Monmouth.  Merthyr  had  now  and  then  written  of  a  Miss 
Belloni ;  but  he  had  seemed  to  refer  to  a  sort  of  child,  and 
Georgiana  had  looked  on  her  as  another  Italian  pensioner. 
She  was  decisive.  The  moment  she  awoke  to  feel  herself 
brooding  over  the  thought  of  this  girl,  she  started  to  join 
Merthyr.  Solitude  is  pasturage  for  a  suspicion.  On  her 
way  she  grew  persuaded  that  her  object  was  bad,  and  stopped ; 
until  the  thought  came,  'If  he  is  in  a  dilemma,  who  shall 
help  him  save  his  sister? '  And,  with  spiritually  streaming 
eyes  at  a  vision  of  companionship  broken  (but  whether  by 
his  taking  another  adviser,  or  by  Miss  Belloni,  she  did  not 
ask),  Georgiana  continued  her  journey. 

At  the  door  of  Lady  Gosstre's  town-house  she  hesitated, 
and  said  in  her  mind,  "What  am  I  doing?  and  what  earth- 
liness  has  come  into  my  love  for  him?  " 

Or,  turning  to  the  cry,  "Will  he  want  me?"  stung  her- 
self. Conscious  that  there  was  some  poison  in  her  love, 
but  clinging  to  it  not  less,  she  entered  the  house,  and  was 
soon  in  Merthyr's  arms. 

"  Why  have  you  come  up?  "  he  asked. 

"  Were  you  thinking  of  coming  to  me  quickly?  "  she  mur- 
mured in  reply. 

He  did  not  say  yes,  but  that  he  had  business  in  London. 
Nor  did  he  say  what. 

Georgiana  let  him  go. 

"How  miserable  is  such  a  weakness!  Is  this  my  love?" 
she  thought  again. 

Then  she  went  to  her  bedroom,  and  knelt,  and  prayed  her 
Saviour's  pardon  for  loving  a  human  thing  too  well.  But, 
if  the  rays  of  her  mind  were  dimmed,  her  heart  beat  too 
forcibly  for  this  complacent  self-deceit.  "  No ;  not  too  well ! 
I  cannot  love  him  too  well.  I  am  selfish.  When  I  say  that, 
it  is  myself  I  am  loving.  To  love  him  thrice  as  dearly  as  I 
do  would  bring  me  nearer  to  God.  Love  I  mean,  not  idola- 
try—  another  form  of  selfishness." 

She  prayed  to  be  guided  out  of  the  path  of  snares. 


GEORGIAKA.   FORD  227 

"CAN  YOU  PRAY?    CAN  YOU  PUT  AWAY  ALL  PROPS  OF 

SELF?      THIS    IS    TRUE    WORSHIP,  UNTO   WHATSOEVER  PoWEB 
YOU    KNEEL." 

This  passage  out  of  a  favourite  book  of  sentences  had 
virtue  to  help  her  now  in  putting  away  the  'props  of  self.' 
It  helped  her  for  the  time.  She  could  not  foresee  the  con- 
test that  was  commencing  for  her. 

"  LOVE  THAT  SHRIEKS  AT  A  MORTAL  WOUND,  AND  BLEEDS 
HUMANLY,  WHAT  IS  HE  BUT  A  PAGAN  GOD,  WITH  THE  PAS- 
SIONS OF  A  PAGAN  GOD?" 

"  Yes,"  thought  Georgiana,  meditating,  "  as  different  from 
the  Christian  love  as  a  brute  from  a  man!  " 

She  felt  that  the  revolution  of  the  idea  of  love  in  her 
mind  (all  that  consoled  her)  was  becoming  a  temptation. 
Quick  in  her  impulses,  she  dismissed  it.  "I  am  like  a 
girl !  "  she  said,  scornfully.  "  Like  a  woman  "  would  not 
have  flattered  her.  Like  what  did  she  strive  to  be?  The 
picture  of  another  self  was  before  her  —  a  creature  calmly 
strong,  unruffled,  and  a  refuge  to  her  "beloved.  It  was  a 
steady  light  through  every  wind  that  blew,  save  when  the 
heart  narrowed;  and  then  it  waxed  feeble,  and  the  life  in 
her  was  hungry  for  she  knew  not  what. 

Georgiana's  struggle  was  to  make  her  great  passion  eat  up 
all  the  others.  Sure  of  the  intensity  and  thoroughness  of 
her  love  for  Merthyr,  he  would  forecast  for  herself  tasks  in 
his  service  impossible  save  to  one  sensually  dead  and  there- 
fore spiritually  sexless.  "  My  love  is  pure, "  she  would  say ; 
as  if  that  were  the  talisman  which  rendered  it  superhuman. 
She  was  under  the  delusion  that  lovers'  love  was  a  repre- 
hensible egoism.  Her  heart  had  never  had  place  for  it;  and 
thus  her  nature  was  unconsummated,  and  the  torment  of  a 
haunting  insufficiency  accompanied  her  sweetest  hours,  ready 
to  mislead  her  in  all  but  her  very  clearest  actions. 

She  saw,  or  she  divined,  much  of  this  struggle ;  but  the 
vision  of  it  was  fitful,  not  consecutive.  It  frightened  and 
harassed  without  illuminating  her.  Now,  upon  Merthyr's 
return,  she  was  moved  by  it  just  enough  to  take  his  hand  and 
say:  — 

"We  are  the  same?" 

"What  can  change  us?"  he  replied. 

"  Or  who?  "  and  as  she  smiled  up  to  him,  she  was  ashamed 
of  her  smile. 


228  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

"  Yes,  who ! "  he  interjected,  by  this  time  quite  enlight- 
ened. All  subtle  feelings  are  discerned  by  Welsh  eyes  when 
untroubled  by  any  mental  agitation.  Brother  and  sister 
were  Welsh,  and  I  may  observe  that  there  is  human  nature 
and  Welsh  nature. 

"Forgive  me,"  she  said;  "I  have  been  disturbed  about 
you." 

Perceiving  that  it  would  be  well  to  save  her  from  any 
spiritual  twists  and  turns  that  she  might  reach  what  she 
desired  to  know,  he  spoke  out  fully :  "  I  have  not  written 
to  you  about  Miss  Belloni  lately.  I  think  it  must  be  seven 
or  eight  days  since  I  had  a  letter  from  her  —  you  shall  see 
it  —  looking  as  if  it  had  been  written  in  the  dark.  She 
gave  the  address  of  a  London  hotel.  I  went  to  her,  and 
her  story  was  that  she  had  come  to  town  to  get  Mr.  Pole's 
consent  to  her  marriage  with  his  son ;  and  that  when  she 
succeeded  in  making  herself  understood  by  him,  the  old 
man  fell,  smitten  with  paralysis,  crying  out  that  he  was 
ruined,  and  his  children  beggars." 

"Ah!"  said  Georgiana;  "then  this  son  is  engaged  to 
her?" 

"She  calls  him  her  lover." 

"Openly?" 

" Have  I  not  told  you?  —  'naked  and  unashamed/" 

"  Of  course  that  has  attracted  my  Merthyr !  "  Georgiana 
drew  to  him  tenderly,  breathing  as  one  who  has  a  burden 
off  her  heart. 

"  But  why  did  she  write  to  you  9  "  the  question  started  up. 

"  For  this  reason :  it  appears  that  Mr.  Pole  showed  such 
nervous  irritation  at  the  idea  of  his  family  knowing  the 
state  he  was  in,  that  the  doctor  attending  him  exacted  a 
promise  from  her  not  to  communicate  with  one  of  them. 
She  was  alone,  in  great  perplexity,  and  did  what  I  had 
requested  her  to  do.  She  did  me  the  honour  to  apply  to 
me  for  any  help  it  was  in  my  power  to  give." 

Georgiana  stood  eyeing  the  ground  sideways.  "  What  is 
she  like?  » 

"You  shall  see  to-morrow,  if  you  will  come  with  me." 

"Dark,  or  fair?" 

Merthyr  turned  her  face  to  the  light,  laughing  softly. 
Georgiana  coloured,  with  dropped  eyelids. 


OEORGIANA  FORD  229 

She  raised  her  eyes  under  their  load  of  shame.  "I  will 
come  gladly,"  she  said. 

"Early  to-morrow,  then,"  rejoined  Merthyr. 

On  the  morrow,  as  they  were  driving  to  the  hotel,  Georgi- 
ana  wanted  to  know  whether  he  called  'this  Miss  Belloni ' 
by  her  Christian  name  —  a  question  so  needless  that  her 
overconscious  heart  drummed  with  gratitude  when  she  saw 
that  he  purposely  spared  her  from  one  meaning  look.  In 
this  mutual  knowledge,  mutual  help,  in  minute  as  in  great 
things,  as  well  as  in  the  recognition  of  a  common  nobility 
of  mind,  the  love  of  the  two  was  fortified. 

Emilia  had  not  been  left  by  Mr.  Powys  without  the  pro- 
tection of  a  woman's  society  in  her  singular  position.  Lady 
Charlotte's  natural  prompt  kindness  required  no  spur  from 
her  friend  that  she  should  go  and  brace  up  the  spirits  of  a 
little  woman,  whom  she  pitied  doubly  —  for  loving  a  man 
who  was  deceiving  her,  and  not  loving  one  who  was  good 
for  her.  She  went  frequently  to  Emilia,  and  sat  with  her 
in  the  sombre  hotel  drawing-room.  Still,  frank  as  she  was 
and  blunt  as  she  affected  to  be,  she  could  not  bring  her 
tongue  to  speak  of  Wilfrid.  If  she  had  fancied  any  sensi- 
tive shuddering  from  the  name  and  the  subject  to  exist, 
she  would  have  struck  boldly,  being  capable  of  cruelty  and, 
where  she  was  permitted  to  see  a  weakness,  rather  fond  of 
striking  deep.  A  belief  in  the  existence  of  Emilia's  courage 
touched  her  to  compassion.  One  day,  however,  she  said, 
"What  is  it  you  take  to  in  Merthyr  Powys?"  and  this 
brought  on  plain  speaking. 

Emilia  could  give  no  reason ;  and  it  is  a  peculiarity  of 
people  who  ask  such  questions  that  they  think  a  want  of 
directness  in  the  answer  suspicious. 

Lady  Charlotte  said  gravely,  "  Come,  come ! " 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Emilia.  "I  like  so  many 
things  in  him." 

"You  don't  like  one  thing  chiefly?" 

"I  like  —  what  do  I  like?  —  his  kindness." 

"'His  kindness! ' '  This  was  the  sort  of  reply  to  make 
the  lady  implacable.  She  seldom  read  others  shrewdly,  and 
could  not  know,  that  near  her,  Emilia  thought  of  Wilfrid 
in  a  way  that  made  the  vault  of  her  brain  seem  to  echo  with 
jarred  chords.  "His  kindness!  What  a  picture  is  the 


230  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

'grateful  girl! '  I  have  seen  rows  of  white-capped  charity 
children  giving  a  bob  and  a  sniffle  as  the  parson  went  down 
the  ranks  promising  buns.  Well !  his  kindness !  You  are 
right  in  appreciating  as  much  as  you  can  see.  I'll  tell  you 
why  /  like  him;  —  because  he  is  a  gentleman.  And  you 
haven't  got  an  idea  how  rare  that  animal  is.  Dear  me! 
Should  I  be  plainer  to  you  if  I  called  him  a  Christian  gen- 
tleman? It's  the  cant  of  a  detestable  school,  my  child.  It 
means  just  this  —  but  why  should  I  disturb  your  future  faith 
in  it?  The  professors  mainly  profess  to  be  'a  comfort  to 
young  women, '  and  I  suppose  you  will  meet  your  comfort, 
and  worship  them  with  the  'growing  mind;'  and  I  must 
confess  that  they  bait  it  rather  cunningly;  nothing  else 
would  bite.  They  catch  almost  all  the  raw  boys  who  have 
anything  in  them.  But  for  me,  Merthyr  himself  would 
have  been  caught  long  ago.  There's  no  absolute  harm  in 
them,  only  that  they're  a  sentimental  compromise.  I  deny 
their  honesty;  and  if  it's  flatly  proved,  I  deny  their  intelli- 
gence. Well!  this  you  can't  understand." 

"  I  have  not  understood  you  at  all, "  said  Emilia. 

"No?  It's  the  tongue  that's  the  natural  traitor  to  a 
woman,  and  takes  longer  runs  with  every  added  year.  I 
suppose  you  know  that  Mr.  Powys  wishes  to  send  you  to 
Italy?" 

I  do,"  said  Emilia. 

"When  are  you  going?" 

"I  am  not  going." 

"Why?" 

Emilia's  bosom  rose.  She  cried  "  Dear  lady ! "  on  the  fall 
of  it,  and  was  scarce  audible  —  adding,  "  Do  you  love  Wil- 
frid?" 

"  Well,  you  have  brought  me  to  the  point  quickly,"  Lady 
Charlotte  remarked.  "  I  don't  commonly  beat  the  bush  long 
myself.  Love  him!  You  might  as  well  ask  me  my  age. 
The  indiscretion  would  be  equal,  and  the  result  the  same. 
Love !  I  have  a  proper  fear  of  the  word.  When  two  play 
at  love  they  spoil  the  game.  It's  enough  that  he  says  he 
loves  me." 

Emilia  looked  relieved.     "Poor  lady !  "  she  sighed. 

'Poor!  "  Lady  Charlotte  echoed,  with  curious  eyes  fixed 
on  the  puzzle  beside  her. 


GEORGIANA   FOBD  231 

"Tell  me  you  will  not  believe  him,"  Emilia  continued. 
"  He  is  mine ;  I  shall  never  give  him  up.  It  is  useless  for 
you  or  anyone  else  to  love  him.  I  know  what  love  is  now. 
Stop  while  you  can.  I  can  be  sorry  for  you,  but  I  will  not 
let  him  go  from  me.  He  is  my  lover." 

Emilia  closed  her  lips  abruptly.  She  produced  more 
effect  than  was  visible.  Lady  Charlotte  drew  out  a  letter, 
saying,  "Perhaps  this  will  satisfy  you." 

"  Nothing !  "  cried  Emilia,  jumping  to  her  feet. 

"Read  it  —  read  it;  and,  for  heaven's  sake,  ma  fille 
sauvage,  don't  think  I'm  here  to  fight  for  the  man!  He  is 
not  Orpheus ;  and  our  modern  education  teaches  us  that  it's 
we  who  are  to  be  run  after.  Will  you  read  it?  " 

"No." 

"  Will  you  read  it  to  please  me  ?  " 

Emilia  changed  from  a  look  of  quiet  opposition  to  gentle- 
ness of  feature.  "  Why  will  it  please  you  if  I  read  that  he 
has  flattered  you  ?  I  never  lie  about  what  I  feel ;  I  think 
men  do."  Her  voice  sank. 

"  You  won't  allow  yourself  to  imagine,  then,  that  he  has 
spoken  false  to  you  ?  " 

"  Tell  me,"  retorted  Emilia,  "  are  you  sure  in  your  heart 
—  as  sure  as  it  beats  each  time  —  that  he  loves  you  ?  You 
are  not." 

"  It  seems  that  we  are  dignifying  my  gentleman  remark- 
ably," said  Lady  Charlotte.  "  When  two  women  fight  for  a 
man,  that  is  almost  a  meal  for  his  vanity.  Now,  listen.  I 
am  not,  as  they  phrase  it,  in  love.  I  am  an  experienced 
person  —  what  is  called  a  woman  of  the  world.  I  should 
not  make  a  marriage  unless  I  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  I  could  help  my  husband,  or  he  me.  Do  me  the  favour 
to  read  this  letter." 

Emilia  took  it,  and  opened  it  slowly.  It  was  a  letter  in 
the  tone  of  the  gallant  paying  homage  with  some  fervour. 
Emilia  searched  every  sentence  for  the  one  word.  That 
being  absent,  she  handed  back  the  letter,  her  eyes  lingering 
on  the  signature. 

"  Do  you  see  what  he  says  ?  "  asked  Lady  Charlotte ;  "  that 
I  can  be  a  right  hand  to  him,  as  I  believe  I  can." 

"  He  writes  like  a  friend."  Emilia  uttered  this  as  when 
we  have  a  contrast  in  the  mind. 


232  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"  You  excuse  him  for  writing  to  me  in  that  style  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  he  may  write  to  any  woman  like  that." 

"  He  has  latitude !  You  really  fancy  that's  the  sort  of 
letter  a  friend  would  write  ?  " 

"  That  is  how  Mr.  Powys  would  write  to  me,"  said  Emilia. 
Lady  Charlotte  laughed.  "  My  unhappy  Merthyr ! " 

"  Only  if  I  could  be  a  gieat  deal  older,"  Emilia  hastened 
to  add ;  and  Lady  Charlotte  slightly  frowned,  but  rubbed  it 
out  with  a  smile. 

Rising,  the  lady  said :  "  I  have  spoken  to  you  upon  equal 
terms ;  and  remember,  very  few  women  would  have  done 
what  I  have  done.  You  are  cared  for  by  Merthyr  Powys, 
and  that's  enough.  It  would  do  you  no  harm  to  fix  your 
eyes  upon  him.  You  won't  get  him ;  but  it  would  do  you 
no  harm.  He  has  a  heart,  as  they  call  it ;  whatever  it  is, 
it's  as  strong  as  a  cable.  He  is  a  knight  of  the  antique. 
He  is  specially  guarded,  however.  Well,  he  insists  that 
you  are  his  friend ;  so  you  are  mine,  and  that  is  why  I  have 
come  to  you  and  spoken  to  you.  You  will  be  silent  about 
it,  I  need  not  say.  No  one  but  yourself  is  aware  that  Lieu- 
tenant Pole  does  me  the  honour  to  liken  me  to  the  good  old 
gentleman  who  accompanied  Telemachus  in  his  voyages, 
and  chooses  me  from  among  the  handmaidens  of  earth.  On 
this  head  you  will  promise  to  be  silent." 

Lady  Charlotte  held  forth  her  hand.  Emilia  would  not 
take  it  before  she  had  replied,  "I  knew  this  before  you 
came,"  and  then  she  pressed  the  extended  fingers. 

Lady  Charlotte  drew  her  close.  "  Has  Wilfrid  taken  you 
into  his  confidence  so  far  ?  " 

Emilia  explained  that  she  had  heard  it  from  his  father. 

The  lady's  face  lit  up  as  from  a  sting  of  anger.  "  Very 
well  —  very  well,"  she  said ;  and,  presently,  "  You  are  right 
when  you  speak  of  the  power  of  lying  in  men.  Observe  — 
Wilfrid  told  me  that  not  one  living  creature  knew  there  was 
question  of  an  engagement  between  us.  What  would  you 
do  in  my  case  ?  " 

Emilia  replied,  "Forgive  him;  and  I  should  think  no 
more  of  it." 

"  Yes.  It  would  be  right ;  and,  presuming  him  to  have 
the  vice,  I  could  be  of  immense  service  to  him,  if  at  least 
he  does  not  lie  habitually.  But  this  is  a  description  of 
treachery,  you  know." 


QEOEGIANA  FORD  233 

"  Oh ! "  cried  Emilia,  "  what  kind  of  treachery  is  that,  if 
he  only  will  keep  his  heart  open  for  me  to  give  all  mine 
to  it ! " 

She  stood  clutching  her  hands  in  the  half-sobbing  ecstasy 
which  signalizes  a  spiritual  exultation  built  on  disquiet.  She 
had  shown  small  emotion  hitherto.  The  sight  of  it  was  like 
the  sight  of  a  mighty  hostile  power  to  Lady  Charlotte  —  a 
power  that  moved  her  —  that  challenged,  and  irritated,  and 
subdued  her.  For  she  saw  there  something  that  she  had 
not;  and  being  of  a  nature  leaning  to  great-mindedness, 
though  not  of  the  first  rank,  she  could  not  meanly  mask  her 
own  deficiency  by  despising  it.  To  do  this  is  the  secret  evil 
by  which  souls  of  men  and  women  stop  their  growth. 

Lady  Charlotte  decided  now  to  say  good-bye.  Her  part- 
ing was  friendly  —  the  form  of  it  consisting  of  a  nod,  an 
extension  of  the  hand,  and  a  kind  word  or  two. 

When  alone,  Emilia  wondered  why  she  kept  taking  long 
breaths,  and  tried  to  correct  herself :  but  the  heart  laboured. 
Yet  she  seemed  to  have  no  thought  in  her  mind ;  she  had  no 
active  sensation  of  pity  or  startled  self-love.  She  went  to 
smooth  Mr.  Pole's  pillow,  as  to  a  place  of  f  orgetf  ulness.  The 
querulous  tyrannies  of  the  invalid  relieved  her;  but  the 
heavy  lifting  of  her  chest  returned  the  moment  she  was 
alone.  She  mentioned  it  to  the  doctor,  who  prescribed  for 
liver,  informing  her  that  the  said  organ  conducted  one  of  the 
most  important  functions  of  her  bodily  system. 

Emilia  listened  to  the  lecturer,  and  promised  to  take  his 
medicine,  trusting  to  be  perfectly  quieted  by  the  nauseous 
draught;  but  when  Mr.  Powys  came,  she  rushed  up  to  him 
and  fell  with  a  cry  upon  his  breast,  murmuring  broken  words 
that  Georgiana  might  fairly  interpret  as  her  suspicions 
directed.  Nor  had  she  ever  seen  Merthyr  look  as  ne  did 
when  their  eyes  next  met. 


234  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

CHAPTER  XXIX 

FIRST   SCOURGING   OF   THE   FINE  SHADES 

THE  card  of  Mr.  Powys  found  Arabella  alone  in  the  house, 
fllrs.  Lupin  was  among  village  schoolchildren ;  Mrs.  Chump 
had  gone  to  London  to  see  whether  anything  was  known  of 
Mr.  Pole  at  his  office,  where  she  fell  upon  the  youth  Brain- 
top,  and  made  him  her  own  for  the  day.  Adela  was  out  in 
the  woods,  contemplating  nature ;  and  Cornelia  was  supposed 
to  be  walking  whither  her  stately  fancy  drew  her. 

"Will  you  take  long  solitary  walks  unprotected?"  she 
was  asked. 

"  I  have  a  parasol,"  she  replied ;  and  could  hear,  miles 
distant,  the  domestic  comments  being  made  on  her  inno- 
cence ;  and  the  story  it  would  be  — "  She  thinks  of  no 
possible  danger  but  from  the  sun." 

A  little  forcing  of  her  innocence  now  was  necessary  as  an 
opiate  for  her  conscience.  She  was  doing  what  her  con- 
science could  only  pardon  on  the  plea  of  her  extreme  inno- 
cence. The  sisters,  and  the  fashion  at  Brookfield,  permitted 
the  assumption  and  exaggerated  it  willingly.  It  chanced, 
however,  that  Adela  had  reason  to  feel  discontented.  It 
was  a  breach  of  implied  contract,  she  thought,  that  Cornelia 
should,  as  she  did  only  yesterday,  tell  her  that  she  had  seen 
Edward  Buxley  in  the  woods,  and  that  she  was  of  opinion 
that  the  air  of  the  woods  was  bad  for  her.  Not  to  see  would 
have  been  the  sisterly  obligation,  in  Adela's  idea — especially 
when  seeing  embraced  things  that  no  loving  sister  should 
believe. 

Bear  in  mind  that  we  are  sentimentalists.  The  eye  is  our 
servant,  not  our  master;  and  so  are  the  senses  generally. 
We  are  not  bound  to  accept  more  than  we  choose  from  them. 
Thus  we  obtain  delicacy ;  and  thus,  as  you  will  perceive,  our 
civilization,  by  the  aid  of  the  sentimentalists,  has  achieved 
an  effective  varnish.  There,  certainly,  to  the  vulgar  mind 
a  tail  is  visible.  The  outrageous  philosopher  declares  vehe- 
mently that  no  beast  of  the  field  or  the  forest  would  own 
such  a  tail.  (His  meaning  is,  that  he  discerns  the  sign  of 


FIKST   SCOURGING   OF  THE   FITB  SHADES         235 

the  animal  slinking  under  the  garb  of  the  stately  polished 
creature.  I  have  all  the  difficulty  in  tue  world  to  keep  him 
back  and  let  me  pursue  my  course.]  These  philosophers 
are  a  bad-mannered  body.  Either  m  opposition,  or  in  the 
support  of  them,  I  maintain  simply  ,hat  the  blinking  senti- 
mentalist helps  to  make  civilization  what  it  is,  and  civiliza- 
tion has  a  great  deal  of  merit. 

"  Did  you  not  leave  your  parasol  behind  you  at  Ipley  ?  " 
said  Adela,  as  she  met  Cornelia  u»  the  afternoon. 

Cornelia  coloured.  Her  pride  supported  her,  and  she  vio- 
lated Fine  Shades  painfully  in  her  response :  "  Mr.  Barrett 
left  me  there.  Is  that  your  meauing  ?  " 

Adela  was  too  much  shocked  to  note  the  courageousness 
of  the  reply.  "  Well !  if  all  we  do  is  to  come  into  broad 
daylight ! "  was  her  horrified  mental  ejaculation. 

The  veil  of  life  was  about  to  be  lifted  for  these  ladies. 
They  found  Arabella  in  her  room,  crying  like  an  unchastened 
schoolgirl;  and  their  first  idea  was  one  of  intense  con- 
demnation —  fresh  offences  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Chump  being 
conjectured.  Little  by  little  Arabella  sobbed  out  what  she 
had  heard  that  day  from  Mr.  Powys. 

After  the  first  stupor  Adela  proposed  to  go  to  her  father 
instantly,  and  then  suggested  that  they  should  all  go.  She 
continued  talking  in  random  suggestions,  and  with  singular 
heat,  as  if  she  conceived  that  the  sensibility  of  her  sisters 
required  to  be  aroused.  By  moving  and  acting,  it  seemed  to 
her  that  the  prospect  of  a  vast  misery  might  be  expunged, 
and  that  she  might  escape  from  showing  any  likeness  to  Ara- 
bella's shamefully-discoloured  face.  It  was  impossible  for 
her  to  realize  grief  in  her  own  bosom.  She  walked  the  room 
in  a  nervous  tremour,  shedding  a  note  of  sympathy  to  one 
sister  and  to  the  other.  At  last  Arabella  got  fuller  com- 
mand of  her  voice.  When  she  had  related  that  her  father's 
positive  wish,  furthered  by  the  doctor's  special  injunction 
to  obey  it  scrupulously,  was  that  they  were  not  to  go  to  him 
in  London,  and  not  to  breathe  a  word  of  his  illness,  but  to 
remain  at  Brookfield  entertaining  friends,  Adela  stamped 
her  foot,  saying  that  it  was  more  than  human  nature  could 
bear. 

"  If  we  go,"  said  Arabella,  "  the  London  doctor  assured 
Mr.  Powys  that  he  would  not  answer  for  papa's  life." 


236  EMILIA   IS  ENGLAND 

"  But,  good  heavens !  are  we  papa's  enemies  ?  And  why 
may  Mr.  Powys  see  him  if  we,  his  daughters,  cannot  ?  Tell 

me  how  Mr.  Powys  met  him  and  knew  of  it !  Tell  me 

I  am  bewildered.  I  feel  that  we  are  cheated  in  some  way. 
Oh !  tell  me  something  clear." 

Arabella  said,  calmingly:  "Emilia  is  with  papa.  She 
wrote  to  Mr.  Powys.  Whether  she  did  rightly  or  not  we 
have  not  now  to  enquire.  I  believe  that  she  thought  it 
right." 

"  Entertain  friends ! "  interjected  Adela.  "  But  papa  can- 
not possibly  mean  that  we  are  to  go  through  —  to  —  the 
fete  on  Besworth  Lawn,  Bella !  It's  in  two  days  from  this 
dreadful  day." 

"  Papa  has  mentioned  it  to  Mr.  Powys ;  he  desires  us  not 
to  postpone  it.  We  .  .  ."  Arabella's  voice  broke  piteously. 

"  Oh !  but  this  is  torture ! "  cried  Adela,  with  a  deplor- 
able vision  of  the  looking-glass  rising  before  her,  as  she  felt 
the  tears  sting  her  eyelids.  "  This  cannot  be !  No  father 
would  .  .  .  not  loving  us  as  dear  papa  does !  To  be  quiet ! 
to  sit  and  be  gay  !  to  flaunt  at  a  f  etc !  Oh,  mercy !  mercy ! 
Tell  me  —  he  left  us  quite  well — no  one  could  have  guessed. 
I  remember  he  looked  at  me  from  the  carriage  window. 
Tell  me — it  must  be  some  moral  shock  —  what  do  you  at- 
tribute it  to  ?  Wilfrid  cannot  be  the  guilty  one.  We  have 
been  only  too  compliant  to  papa's  wishes  about  that  woman. 
Tell  me  what  you  think  it  can  be ! " 

A  voice  said,  "  Money ! " 

Which  of  the  sisters  had  spoken  Adela  did  not  know.  It 
was  bitter  enough  that  one  could  be  brought  to  utter  the 
thing,  even  if  her  ideas  were  so  base  as  to  suspect  it.  The 
tears  now  came  dancing  over  her  under-lids  like  triumphing 
imps.  "Money!"  echoed  through  her  again  and  again. 
Curiously,  too,  she  had  no  occasion  to  ask  how  it  was  that 
money  might  be  supposed  to  have  operated  on  her  father's 
health.  Unable  to  realize  to  herself  the  image  of  her  father 
lying  ill  and  suffering,  but  just  sufficiently  touched  by  what 
she  could  conceive  of  his  situation,  the  bare  whisper  of 
money  came  like  a  foul  insult  to  overwhelm  her  in  floods 
of  liquid  self-love.  She  wept  with  that  last  anguish  of  a 
woman  who  is  compelled  to  weep,  but  is  incapable  of  rind- 
ing any  enjoyment  in  her  tears.  Cornelia  and  Arabella 


OF  THE  DOUBLE-MAN  IN  US  287 

caught  her  hands ;  she  was  the  youngest,  and  had  been  their 
pet.  It  gratified  them  that  Adela  should  show  a  deep  and 
keen  feeling.  Adela  did  not  check  herself  from  a  demon- 
stration that  enabled  her  to  look  broadly,  as  it  were,  on  her 
own  tenderness  of  heart.  Following  many  outbursts,  she 
asked,  "And  the  illness  — what  is  it?  not  its  cause  — 
itself ! " 

A  voice  said,  "  Paralysis  ! " 

Adela's  tears  stopped.  She  gazed  on  both  faces,  trying 
with  open  mouth  to  form  the  word. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

OP    THE    DOUBLE-MAN    IN    US,    AND    THE    GREAT    FIOHT 
WHEN    THESE   ABE   FULL-GROWN 

FLYING  from  port  to  port  to  effect  an  exchange  of  stew- 
ards (the  endless  occupation  of  a  yacht  proprietor),  Wilfrid 
had  no  tidings  from  Brookfield.  The  night  before  the 
gathering  on  Besworth  Lawn  he  went  to  London  and  dined 
at  his  Club  —  a  place  where  youths  may  drink  largely  of 
the  milk  of  this  world's  wisdom.  Wilfrid's  romantic  senti- 
ment was  always  corrected  by  an  hour  at  his  Club.  After 
dinner  he  strolled  to  a  not  perfectly  regulated  theatre,  in 
company  with  a  brother  officer ;  and  when  they  had  done 
duty  before  the  scenes  for  a  space  of  time,  they  lounged 
behind  to  disenchant  themselves,  in  obedience  to  that  pre- 
cocious cynicism  which  is  the  young  man's  extra-luxury. 
The  first  figure  that  caught  Wilfrid's  attention  there  was 
Mr.  Pericles,  in  a  white  overcoat,  stretched  along  a  sofa  — 
his  eyelids  being  down,  though  his  eyes  were  evidently  vigi- 
lant beneath.  A  titter  of  ladies  present  told  of  some  recent 
interesting  commotion. 

"  Only  a  row  between  that  rich  Greek  fellow  who  gave  the 
supper,  and  Marion,"  a  vivacious  dame  explained  to  Wilfrid. 
"  She's  in  one  of  her  jealous  fits ;  she'd  be  jealous  if  her 
Doodle-dog  went  on  its  hind-legs  to  anybody  else." 

''  Poodle,  by  Jove  ! "  said  Wilfrid.   "  Pericles  himself  looks 


238  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

like  an  elongated  poodle  shaved  up  to  his  moustache.  Look 
at  him.  And  he  plays  the  tyrant,  does  he  ?  " 

"  Oh !  she  stands  that.  Some  of  those  absurd  women  like 
it,  I  think.  She's  fussing  about  another  girl." 

"You  wouldn't?" 

"  What  man's  worth  it  ?  " 

"But,  would  you?" 

"  It  depends  upon  the  '  him/  monsieur." 

"  Depends  upon  his  being  very  handsome ! " 

"And  good." 

"  And  rich  ?  " 

"No!  "  the  lady  fired  up.     "There  you  don't  know  us." 

The  colloquy  became  almost  tender,  until  she  said,  "  Isn't 
this  gassy,  and  stifling  ?  I  confess  I  do  like  a  carriage,  and 
Eichmond  on  a  Sunday.  And  then,  with  two  daughters,  you 
know !  But  what  I  complain  of  is  her  folly  in  being  in  love, 
or  something  like  it,  with  a  rich  fellow." 

"  Love  the  poor  devil  —  manage  the  rich,  you  mean." 

"  Yes,  of  course ;  that  makes  them  both  happy." 

"  It's  a  method  of  being  charitable  to  two." 

A  rather  fleshy  fairy  now  entered,  and  walked  straight  up 
to  the  looking-glass  to  examine  her  paint  —  pronouncedly 
turning  her  back  to  the  sofa,  where  Mr.  Pericles  still  lay  at 
provoking  full  length.  Her  panting  was  ominous  of  a 
further  explosion. 

"  Innocent  child ! "  in  the  mockery  of  a  foreign  accent, 
commenced  it;  while  Wilfrid  thought  how  unjustly  and 
coldly  critically  he  had  accused  his  little  Emilia  of  vulgarity, 
low  that  he  had  this  feminine  display  of  it  swarming  about 
him. 

"  Innocent  child,  indeed !  Be  as  deaf  as  you  like,  you  shall 
hear.  And  sofas  are  not  made  for  men's  dirty  boots,  in  this 
country.  I  believe  they're  all  pigs  abroad  —  the  men;  and 
the  women  —  cats  !  Oh  !  don't  open  your  eyes  —  don't 
speak,  pray.  You're  certain  I  must  go  when  the  bell  rings. 
You're  waiting  for  that,  you  unmanly  dog ! " 

"  A  pig,"  Mr.  Pericles  here  ventured  to  remind  her,  mur- 
muring as  one  in  his  dream. 

"  A  peeg ! "  she  retorted  mildly,  somewhat  mollifitd  by  her 
apparent  success.  But  Mr.  Pericles  had  relapsed  into  his 
exasperating  composure.  The  breath  of  a  deliberate  and 


OF   THE  DOUBLE-MAN   IN   US  239 

undeserved  peacefulness  continued  to  be  drawn  in  by  his 
nostrils. 

At  the  accustomed  warning  there  was  an  ostentatious  rustle 
of  retiring  dresses  ;  whereat  Mr.  Pericles  chose  to  proclaim 
himself  awake.  The  astute  fairy-fury  immediately  stepped 
before  him. 

"Now  you  can't  go  on  pretending  sleep.  You  shall  hear, 
and  everybody  shall  hear.  You  know  you're  a  villain !  You're 
a  wolf  seeking  ..." 

Mr.  Pericles  waved  his  hand,  and  she  was  caught  by  the 
wrist  and  told  that  the  scene  awaited  her. 

"  Let  them  wait ! "  she  shouted,  and,  sharpening  her  cry 
as  she  was  dragged  off,  "  Dare  to  take  that  girl  to  Italy ! 
I  know  what  that  means,  with  you.  An  Englishman  might 
mean  right  —  but  you  !  You  think  you've  been  dealing  with 
a  fool.  Why,  I  can  stop  this  in  a  minute,  and  I  will.  It's 
you're  the  fool !  Why,  I  know  her  father :  he  plays  in  the 
orchestra.  I  know  her  name —  Belloni ! " 

Up  sprang  the  Greek  like  a  galvanized  corpse ;  while  two 
violent  jerks  from  the  man  hauling  her  out  rattled  the  laugh 
of  triumph  which  burst  from  her.  At  the  same  time  Wilfrid 
strode  forward,  with  the  frown  of  one  still  bent  listening,  and 
he  and  Pericles  were  face  to  face.  The  eyebrows  of  the  latter 
shot  up  in  a  lively  arch.  He  made  a  motion  toward  the 
ceremony  of  '  shake-hands ; '  but,  perceiving  no  correspond- 
ent overture,  grinned,  "  It  is  warm  —  ha  ?  " 

"  You  feel  the  heat  ?   Step  outside  a  minute,"  said  Wilfrid. 

"  Oh,  no ! "  Mr.  Pericles  looked  pleasantly  sagacious. 
"  Ze  draught  —  a  cold." 

"  Witt  you  come  ?  "  pursued  Wilfrid. 

"  Many  sanks !  " 

Wilfrid's  hand  was  rising.  At  this  juncture  his  brother 
officer  slipped  out  some  languid  words  in  his  ear,  indicative 
of  his  astonishment  that  he  should  be  championing  a  ter- 
magant ;  and  horror  at  the  idea  of  such  a  thing  being  pub- 
licly imagined,  tamed  Wilfrid  quickly.  He  recovered  him- 
self with  his  usual  cleverness.  Seeing  the  signs  of  hostility 
vanish,  Mr.  Pericles  said,  "You  are  on  a  search  for  your 
father?  You  have  found  him?  Horn!  I  should  say  a 
maladie  of  nerf s  will  come  to  him.  A  pin  fall  —  he  start ! 
A  storm  at  night  —  he  is  out  dancing  among  his  ships  of 


240  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

venture !  Not  a  bit  of  corage !  —  which  is  bad.  If  you 
shall  find  Mr.  Pole  for  to-morrow  on  ze  lawn,  vary  glad." 

With  a  smile  compounded  of  sniffing  dog  and  Parisian 
obsequiousness,  Mr.  Pericles  passed,  thinking  "  He  has  not 
got  her : "  for  such  was  his  deduction  if  he  saw  that  a  man 
could  flush  for  a  woman's  name. 

Wilfrid  stood  like  a  machine  with  a  thousand  wheels  in 
revolt.  Sensations  pricked  at  ideas,  and  immediately  left 
them  to  account  for  their  existence  as  they  best  could.  The 
ideas  committed  suicide  without  a  second's  consideration.  He 
felt  the  great  gurgling  sea  in  which  they  were  drowned  heave 
and  throb.  Then  came  a  fresh  set  that  poised  better  on  the 
3lack-rope  of  his  understanding.  By  degrees,  a  buried 
iread  in  his  brain  threw  off  its  shroud.  The  thought  that 
there  was  something  wrong  with  his  father  stood  clearly 
over  him,  to  be  swallowed  at  once  in  the  less  tangible  belief 
that  a  harm  had  come  to  Emilia  —  not  was  coming,  but  had 
come.  Passion  thinks  wilfully  when  it  thinks  at  all.  That 
night  he  lay  in  a  deep  anguish,  revolving  the  means  by 
which  he  might  help  and  protect  her.  There  seemed  no 
way  open,  save  by  making  her  his  own ;  and  did  he  belong 
to  himself?  What  bound  him  to  Lady  Charlotte?  She 
was  not  lovely  or  loving.  He  had  not  even  kissed  her  hand ; 
yet  she  held  him  in  a  chain. 

The  two  men  composing  most  of  us  at  the  outset  of  actual 
life  began  their  deadly  wrestle  within  him,  both  having 
become  awakened.  If  they  wait  for  circumstance,  that 
steady  fire  will  fuse  them  into  one,  who  is  commonly  a 
person  of  some  strength ;  but  throttling  is  the  custom  be- 
tween them,  and  we  are  used  to  see  men  of  murdered  halves. 
These  men  have  what  they  fought  for :  they  are  unaware  of 
any  guilt  that  may  be  charged  against  them,  though  they 
know  that  they  do  not  embrace  Life ;  and  so  it  is  that  we 
have  vague  discontent  too  universal.  Change,  0  Lawgiver ! 
the  length  of  our  minority,  and  let  it  not  end  till  this  battle 
is  thoroughly  fought  out  in  approving  daylight.  The  period 
of  our  duality  should  be  one  as  irresponsible  in  your  eyes 
as  that  of  our  infancy.  Is  he  we  call  a  young  man  an  indi- 
vidual —  who  is  a  pair  of  alternately  kicking  scales  ?  Is  he 
educated,  when  he  dreams  not  thai  h.)  is  divided?  He  has 
drunk  Latin  like  a  vital  air,  and  can  quote  what  he  remem- 


OF  THE  DOUBLE-MAN  IN   US  241 

bers  of  Homer ;  but  how  has  he  been  fortified  for  this  tre- 
mendous conflict  of  opening  manhood,  which  is  to  our  life 
here  what  is  the  landing  of  a  soul  to  the  life  to  come  ? 

Meantime,  it  is  a  bad  business  when  the  double-man  goes 
about  kneeling  at  the  feet  of  more  than  one  lady.  Society 
(to  give  that  institution  its  due)  permits  him  to  seek  partial 
invulnerability  by  dipping  himself  in  a  dirty  Styx,  which 
corrects,  as  we  hear  said,  the  adolescent  tendency  to  folly. 
Wilfrid's  sentiment  had  served  him  (well  or  ill  as  it  may 
be),  by  keeping  him  from  a  headlong  plunge  in  the  protect- 
ing river;  and  his  folly  was  unchastened.  He  did  not  even 
contemplate  an  escape  from  the  net  at  Emilia's  expense. 
The  idea  came.  The  idea  will  come  to  a  young  man  in  such 
a  difficulty.  "  My  mistress !  My  glorious  stolen  fruit !  My 
dark  angel  of  love  !  "  He  deserves  a  little  credit  for  seeing 
that  Emilia  never  could  be  his  mistress,  in  the  debased  sense 
of  the  term.  Union  with  her  meant  life-long  union,  he 
knew.  Ultimate  mental  subjection  he  may  also  have  seen 
in  it,  unconsciously.  For,  hazy  thoughts  of  that  nature  may 
mix  with  the  belief  that  an  alliance  with  her  degrades  us,  in 
this  curious  hotch-potch  of  emotions  known  to  the  world  as 
youthful  man.  A  wife  superior  to  her  husband  makes  him 
ridiculous  wilfully,  if  the  wretch  is  to  be  laughed  at ;  but  a 
mistress  thus  ill-matched  cannot  fail  to  cast  the  absurdest 
light  on  her  monstrous  dwarf-custodian.  Wilfrid  had  the 
sagacity  to  perceive,  and  the  keen  apprehension  of  ridicule 
to  shrink  from,  the  picture.  Besides,  he  was  beginning 
to  love  Emilia.  His  struggle  now  was  to  pluck  his  passion 
from  his  heart ;  and  such  was  already  his  plight  that  he  saw 
no  other  way  of  attempting  it  than  by  taking  horse  and  ri<* 
ing  furiously  in  the  direction  of  Besworth. 


242  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

CHAPTER  XXXI 

BESWOBTH   LAWN 

"  I  AM  curious  to  see  what  you  will  make  of  this  gathering. 
I  can  cook  a  small  company  myself.  It  requires  the  powers 
of  a  giantess  to  mix  a  body  of  people  in  the  open  air ;  and  all 
that  is  said  of  commanders  of  armies  shall  be  said  of  you,  if 
you  succeed." 

This  was  Lady  Gosstre's  encouragement  to  the  fair  presi- 
dents of  the  f§te  on  Besworth  Lawn.  There  had  been  a  time 
when  they  would  have  cried  out  internally :  "  We  will  do  it, 
fail  who  may."  That  fallow  hour  was  over.  Their  sole 
thought  was  to  get  through  the  day.  A  little  feverish  im- 
pulse of  rivalry  with  her  great  pattern  may  have  moved 
Arabella ;  but  the  pressure  of  grief  and  dread,  and  the  con- 
trast between  her  actions  and  feelings,  forcibly  restrained  a 
vain  display.  As  a  consequence,  she  did  her  duty  better, 
and  won  applause  from  the  great  lady's  moveable  court  on 
eminences  of  the  ground. 

"These  girls  are  clever,"  she  said  to  Lady  Charlotte. 
"They  don't  bustle  too  much.  They  don't  make  too  dis- 
tinct a  difference  of  tone  with  the  different  sets.  I  shall 
propose  Miss  Pole  as  secretary  to  our  Pin  and  Needle  Relief 
Society." 

"  Do,"  was  the  reply.  "  There  is  also  the  Polish  Dance 
Committee ;  and,  if  she  has  any  gnergy  left,  she  might  be 
treasurer  to  the  Ladies'  General  Revolution  Ball." 

"  That  is  an  association  with  which  I  am  not  acquainted," 
said  Lady  Gosstre,  directing  her  eye-glass  on  the  field. 
"  Here  comes  young  Pole.  He's  gallant,  they  tell  me,  and 
handsome :  he  studies  us  too  obviously.  That's  a  mistake 
to  be  corrected,  Charlotte.  One  doesn't  like  to  see  a  pair  of 
eves  measuring  us  against  a  preconception  quelconque.  Now, 
there  is  our  Ionian  Am  .  .  .  but  you  have  corrected  me, 
Merthyr :  —  host,  if  you  please.  But,  see  !  What  is  the 
man  doing  ?  Is  he  smitten  with  madness  ?  " 

Mr.  Pericles  had  made  a  furious  dash  at  the  band  in  the 
centre  of  the  lawn,  scattered  their  music,  and  knocked  over 


BESWORTH  LAWN  243 

the  stands.  When  his  gesticulations  had  been  observed  for 
some  moments,  Freshfield  Sumner  said :  "  He  has  the  look 
of  a  plucked  hen,  who  remembers  that  she  once  clapped 
wings,  and  tries  to  recover  the  practice." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Lady  Gosstre.  She  was  not  one  who 
could  be  unkind  to  the  professional  wit.  "  And  the  music- 
leaves  go  for  feathers.  What  has  the  band  done  to  displease 
him  ?  I  thought  the  playing  was  good." 

"  The  instruments  appear  to  have  received  a  dismissal," 
said  Lady  Charlotte.  "  I  suppose  this  is  a  clearing  of  the 
stage  for  coming  alarums  and  excursions.  Behold!  the 
'  female  element '  is  agitated.  There  are  —  can  you  reckon 
at  this  distance,  Merthyr  ?  —  twelve,  fourteen  of  my  sex  en- 
treating him  in  the  best  tragic  fashion.  Can  he  continue 
stern  ?  " 

"  They  seem  to  be  as  violent  as  the  women  who  tore  up 
Orpheus,"  said  Lady  Gosstre. 

Tracy  Runningbrook  shrieked,  in  a  paroxysm,  "Splen- 
did ! "  from  his  couch  on  the  sward,  and  immediately  ran 
off  with  the  idea,  bodily. 

"  Have  I  stumbled  anywhere  ?  "  Lady  Gosstre  leaned  to 
Mr.  Powys. 

He  replied  with  a  satiric  sententiousness  that  told  Lady 
Gosstre  what  she  wanted  to  know. 

"This  is  the  isolated  case  where  a  little  knowledge  is 
truly  dangerous,"  said  Lady  Gosstre.  "  I  prohibit  girls  from 
any  allusion  to  the  classics  until  they  have  taken  their  de- 
gree and  are  warranted  not  to  open  the  wrong  doors.  On 
the  whole,  don't  you  think,  Merthyr,  it's  better  for  women 
to  avoid  that  pool  ?  " 

"  And  accept  what  the  noble  creature  chooses  to  bring  to 
us  in  buckets,"  added  Lady  Charlotte.  "What  is  your 
opinion,  Georgey?  I  forget:  Merthyr  has  thought  you 
worthy  of  instruction." 

"  Merthyr  taught  me  in  camp,"  said  Georgians,  looking 
at  her  brother  —  her  face  showing  peace  and  that  confirmed 
calm  delight  habitual  to  it.  "We  found  that  there  are 
times  in  war  when  you  can  do  nothing,  and  you  are  feverish 
to  be  employed.  Then,  if  you  can  bring  your  mind  to  study, 
you  are  sure  to  learn  quickly.  I  liked  nothing  better  than 
Latin  Grammar." 


244  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"  Studying  Latin  Grammar  to  the  tune  of  great  guns  must 
be  a  new  sensation,"  Freshfield  Sumner  observed. 

"  The  pleasure  is  in  getting  rid  of  all  sensation,"  said  she. 
"  I  mean  you  command  it  without  at  all  crushing  your  ex- 
citement. You  cannot  feel  a  fuller  happiness  than  when 
you  look  back  on  those  hours :  at  least,  I  speak  for  myself." 

"So,"  said  Lady  Gosstre,  "Georgey  did  not  waste  her 
time  after  all,  Charlotte." 

What  the  latter  thought  was :  "  She  could  not  handle  a 
sword  or  fire  a  pistol.  Would  /  have  consented  to  be  mere 
camp-baggage  ?  "  Yet  no  woman  admired  Georgiana  Ford 
so  much.  Disappointment  vitiated  many  of  Lady  Charlotte's 
first  impulses ;  and  not  until  strong  antagonism  had  thrown 
her  upon  her  generosity  could  she  do  justice  to  the  finer 
natures  about  her.  There  was  full  life  in  her  veins  ;  and  she 
was  hearing  the  thirty  fatal  bells  that  should  be  music  to  a 
woman,  if  melancholy  music ;  and  she  had  not  lived.  Time, 
that  sounded  in  her  ears,  as  it  kindled  no  past,  spoke  of  no 
future.  She  was  in  unceasing  rivalry  with  all  of  her  sex  who 
had  a  passion,  or  a  fixed  affection,  or  even  an  employment. 
A  sense  that  she  was  wronged  by  her  fate  haunted  this 
lady.  Rivalry  on  behalf  of  a  man  she  would  have  held 
mean  —  she  would  have  plucked  it  from  her  bosom  at  once. 
She  was  simply  envious  of  those  who  in  the  face  of  death 
could  say,  "  I  have  lived."  Pride,  and  the  absence  of  any 
power  of  self-inspection,  kept  her  blind  to  her  disease. 
No  recollection  gave  her  joy  save  of  the  hours  in  the  hunt- 
ing-field. There  she  led  gallantly ;  but  it  was  not  because 
of  leading  that  she  exulted.  There  the  quick  blood  struck 
on  her  brain  like  wine,  and  she  seemed  for  a  time  to  have 
some  one  among  the  crowns  of  life.  An  object  —  who  cared 
how  small  ?  —  was  ahead :  a  poor  old  fox  trying  to  save  his 
brush ;  and  Charlotte  would  have  it  if  the  master  of  cun- 
ning did  not  beat  her.  "  It's  my  natural  thirst  for  blood," 
she  said.  She  did  not  laugh  as  she  thought  now  and  then 
that  the  old  red  brush  dragging  over  grey  dews  toward  a 
yellow  yolk  in  the  curdled  winter-morning  sky,  was  the 
single  thing  that  could  make  her  heart  throb. 

Brookfield  was  supported  in  its  trial  by  the  discomfiture 
of  the  Tinleys.  These  girls,  with  their  brother,  had  evi- 
dently plotted  to  'draw  out'  Mrs.  Chump.  They  had  asked 


BESWORTH  LAWN  245 

concerning  her,  severally;  and  hearing  that  she  had  not 
returned  from  town,  had  each  shown  a  blank  face,  or  had 
been  doubtful  of  the  next  syllable.  Of  Wilfrid,  Emilia, 
and  Mr.  Pole,  question  and  answer  were  interchanged. 
"Wilfrid  will  come  in  a  few  minutes.  Miss  Belloni,  you 
know,  is  preparing  for  Italy.  Papa?  Papa,  I  really  do 
fear  will  not  be  able  to  join  us."  Such  was  Brookfield's 
concerted  form  of  reply.  The  use  of  it,  together  with  the 
gaiety  of  dancing  blood,  gave  Adela  (who  believed  that  she 
ought  to  be  weeping,  and  could  have  wept  easily)  strange 
twitches  of  what  I  would  ask  permission  to  call  the  juve- 
nile '  shrug-philosophy.'  As  thus :  '  What  creatures  we  are, 
but  life  is  so ! '  And  again,  '  Is  not  merriment  dreadful 
when  a  duty ! '  She  was  as  miserable  as  she  could  be : 
but  not  knowing  that  youth  furnished  a  plea  available,  the 
girl  was  ashamed  of  being  cheerful  at  all.  Edward  Bux- 
ley's  sketch  of  Mr.  Pericles  scattering  his  band,  sent  her 
into  muffled  screams  of  laughter ;  for  which  she  did  inter- 
nal penance  so  bitter  that,  for  her  to  be  able  to  go  on  at  all, 
the  shrug-philosophy  was  positively  necessary.  Mr.  Peri- 
cles himself  saw  the  sketch,  and  remarked  critically,  "It 
is  zat  I  have  more  hair : "  following  which,  he  tapped  the 
signal  for  an  overture  to  commence,  and  at  the  first  stroke 
took  a  run,  with  his  elbows  clapping  exactly  as  the  shrewd 
hand  of  Edward  had  drawn  him. 

"See  him  —  zat  fellow,"  Mr.  Pericles  said  to  Laura 
Tinley,  pointing  to  the  leader.  "  See  him  pose  a  maestro ! 
zat  leads  zis  tintamarre.  He  is  a  hum  —  a  bug !  " 

Laura  did  the  vocal  caricaturing,  when  she  had  gathered 
plenty  of  matter  of  this  kind.  Altogether,  as  host,  Mr.' 
Pericles  accomplished  his  duty  in  furnishing  amusement. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  Sir  Twickenham  Pryme  and  Wilfrid 
arrived  in  company.  The  baronet  went  straight  to  Cornelia. 
Wilfrid  beckoned  to  Adela,  from  whom  he  heard  of  his 
father's  illness  at  the  hotel  in  town,  and  the  conditions 
imposed  on  them.  He  nodded,  said  lightly,  "Where's 
Emilia  ?  "  and  nodded  again  to  the  answer,  "  With  papa," 
and  then  stopped  as  he  was  walking  off  to  one  of  the  groups. 
"  After  all,  it  won't  do  for  us  to  listen  to  the  whims  of  an 
invalid.  I'm  going  back.  You  needn't  say  you've  seen  me." 

"We   have    the    doctor's    most    imperative    injunction, 


246  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

dearest,"  pleaded  Adela,  deceived  for  a  moment.  "  Papa's 
illness  is  mental  chiefly.  He  is  able  to  rise  and  will  be  here 
very  soon,  if  he  is  not  in  any  way  crossed.  For  heaven's 
sake,  command  yourself  as  we  have  done  —  painfully  indeed ! 
Besides,  you  have  been  seen." 

"Has  she ?"  Wilfrid  began;  and  toned  an  addi- 
tional carelessness.  "  She  writes,  of  course  ?" 

"  No,  not  once ;  and  we  are  angry  with  her.  It  looks  like 
ingratitude,  or  stupidity.  She  can  write." 

•"  People  might  say  that  we  are  not  behaving  well,"  re- 
turned Wilfrid,  repeating  that  he  must  go  to  town.  But 
now  Edward  Buxley  came  running  with  a  message  from  the 
aristocratic  heights,  and  thither  Wilfrid  walked  captive  — 
saying  in  Adela's  ear,  "  Don't  be  angry  with  her." 

Adela  thought,  very  justly,  "I  shall,  if  you've  been 
making  a  fool  of  her,  naughty  boy!" 

Wilfrid  saluted  the  ladies,  and  made  his  bow  of  introduc- 
tion to  Georgiana  Ford,  at  whom  he  looked  twice,  to  confirm 
an  impression  that  she  was  the  perfect  contrast  to  Emilia ; 
and  for  this  reason  he  chose  not  to  look  at  her  again.  Lady 
Charlotte  dropped  him  a  quick  recognition. 

If  Brook  field  could  have  thrown  the  burden  from  its  mind, 
the  day  was  one  to  feel  a  pride  in.  Three  Circles  were 
present,  and  Brookfield  denominated  two  that  it  had  passed 
through,  and  patronized  all  —  from  Lady  Gosstre  (aristoc- 
racy) to  the  Tinley  set  (lucre),  and  from  these  to  the  rep- 
resentative Sumner  girls  (cultivated  poverty).  There  were 
also  intellectual,  scientific,  and  Art  circles  to  deal  with; 
music,  pleasant  to  hear,  albeit  condemned  by  Mr.  Pericles ; 
agreeable  chatter,  courtly  flirtation  and  homage,  and  no 
dread  of  the  defection  of  the  letter  H  from  their  family. 

"  I  feel  more  and  more  convinced,"  said  Adela,  meeting 
Arabella,  "that  we  can  have  really  no  cause  for  alarm; 
otherwise  papa  would  not  have  been  cruel  to  his  children." 
Arabella  kindly  reserved  her  opinion.  "  So  let  us  try  and 
be  happy,"  continued  Adela,  determining  to  be  encouraged 
by  silence.  With  that  she  went  on  tiptoe  gracefully  and 
blew  a  kiss  to  her  sister's  lips.  Running  to  Captain  Gambier, 
she  said,  "  Do  you  really  enjoy  this  ?  " 

"Charming,"  replied  the  ever-affable  gentleman.  "If  I 
might  only  venture  to  say  what  makes  it  so  infinitely ! " 


BESWORTH   LAWN  247 

Much  to  her  immediate  chagrin  at  missing  a  direct  com- 
pliment, which  would  have  had  to  be  parried,  and  might 
have  led  to  '  vistas,'  the  too  sprightly  young  lady  found  her- 
self running  on :  "  It's  as  nice  as  sin,  without  the  knowledge 
that  you  are  sinning." 

"  Oh !  do  you  think  that  part  of  it  disagreeable  ?  "  said  the 
captain. 

"  I  think  the  heat  terrific :  "  she  retrieved  her  ground. 

"  Coquet  et  coquette,"  muttered  Lady  Charlotte,  observing 
them  from  a  distance ;  and  wondered  whether  her  sex  might 
be  strongly  represented  in  this  encounter. 

It  was  not  in  the  best  taste,  nor  was  it  perhaps  good  policy 
(if  I  may  quote  the  Tinley  set),  for  the  ladies  of  Brookfield 
to  subscribe  openly  to  the  right  of  certain  people  present 
to  be  exclusive.  Arabella  would  have  answered:  "Lady 
Gosstre  and  her  party  cannot  associate  with  you  to  your 
mutual  pleasure  and  profit ;  and  do  you  therefore  blame  her 
for  not  attempting  what  would  fail  ludicrously?"  With 
herself,  as  she  was  not  sorry  to  show,  Lady  Gosstre  could 
associate.  Cornelia  had  given  up  work  to  become  a  part  of 
the  Court.  Adela  made  flying  excursions  over  the  lawn. 
Laura  Tinley  had  the  field  below  and  Mr.  Pericles  to  her- 
self. That  anxious  gentleman  consulted  his  watch  from  time 
to  time,  as  if  he  expected  the  birth  of  an  event. 

Lady  Gosstre  grew  presently  aware  that  there  was  more 
acrimony  in  Freshfield  Sumner's  replies  to  Sir  Twickenham 
(whom  he  had  seduced  into  a  political  argument)  than  the 
professional  wit  need  employ ;  and  as  Mr.  Powys's  talk  was 
getting  so  attractive  that  the  Court  had  become  crowded, 
she  gave  a  hint  to  Georgiana  and  Lady  Charlotte,  prompt 
lieutenants,  whose  retirement  broke  the  circle. 

"  I  never  shall  understand  how  it  was  done,"  Adela  said 
subsequently.  It  is  hoped  that  everybody  sees  the  impor- 
tance of  understanding  such  points. 

She  happened  to  be  standing  alone  when  a  messenger  came 
up  to  her  and  placed  a  letter  in  her  hand,  addressed  to  her 
sister  Cornelia.  Adela  walked  slowly  up  to  the  heights. 
She  knew  Mr.  Barrett's  handwriting.  "  Good  heavens !  "  — 
her  thought  may  be  translated  out  of  Fine  Shades — "does 
C.  really  in  her  heart  feel  so  blind  to  our  situation  that  she 
can  go  on  playing  still?"  When  she  reached  the  group  it 


248  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

was  to  hear  Mr.  Powys  speaking  of  Mr.  Barrett.  Cornelia 
was  very  pale,  and  stood  wretchedly  in  contrast  among  the 
faces.  Adela  beckoned  her  to  step  aside.  "  Here  is  a  letter," 
she  said :  "  there's  no  postmark.  What  has  been  the  talk  of 
that  man?" 

"  Do  you  mean  of  Mr.  Barrett  ?  "  Cornelia  replied  :  -  • 
"that  his  father  was  a  baronet,  and  a  madman,  who  has 
just  disinherited  him." 

"  Just  ?  "  cried  Adela.  She  thought  of  the  title.  Cornelia 
had  passed  on.  A  bizarre  story  of  Mr.  Barrett's  father  was 
related  to  Adela  by  Sir  Twickenham.  She  grappled  it  with 
her  sense,  and  so  got  nothing  out  of  it.  "  Disinherited  him 
because  he  wrote  to  his  father,  who  was  dying,  to  say  that 
he  had  gained  a  livelihood  by  playing  the  organ !  He  had 
a  hatred  of  music  ?  It's  incomprehensible !  You  know,  Sir 
Twickenham,  the  interest  we  take  in  Mr.  Barrett."  The 
masked  anguish  of  Cornelia's  voice  hung  in  her  ears.  She 
felt  that  it  was  now  possible  Cornelia  might  throw  over  the 
rich  for  the  penniless  baronet,  and  absolutely  for  an  instant 
she  thought  nakedly,  "The  former  ought  not  to  be  lost 
to  the  family."  Thick  clouds  obscured  the  vision.  Lady 
Gosstre  had  once  told  her  that  the  point  of  Sir  Twicken- 
ham's private  character  was  his  susceptibility  to  ridicule. 
Her  ladyship  had  at  the  same  time  complimented  his  dis- 
cernment in  conjunction  with  Cornelia.  "  Yes,"  Adela  now 
thought ;  "  but  if  my  sister  shows  that  she  is  not  so  wise  as 
she  looks ! "  Cornelia's  figure  disappeared  under  the  foliage 
bordering  Besworth  Lawn. 

As  usual,  Arabella  had  all  the  practical  labour  —  a  fact 
that  was  noticed  from  the  observant  heights.  "One  sees 
m&re  de  famille  written  on  that  young  woman,"  was  the 
eulogy  she  won  from  Lady  Gosstre.  How  much  would  the 
great  dame  have  marvelled  to  behold  the  ambition  beneath 
the  bustling  surface !  Arabella  was  feverish,  and  Freshfield 
Sumner  reported  brilliant  things  uttered  by  her.  He  became 
after  a  time  her  attendant,  aide,  and  occasional  wit-foil. 
They  had  some  sharp  exchanges :  and  he  could  not  but  reflect 
on  the  pleasure  her  keen  zest  of  appreciation  gave  him  com- 
pared with  Cornelia's  grave  smile,  which  had  often  kindled 
in  him  profane  doubts  of  the  positive  brightness,  or  rapidity 
of  her  intelligence. 


BESWORTH   LAWN  249 

"  Besworth  at  sunset !  What  a  glorious  picture  to  have 
living  before  you  every  day ! "  said  Lady  Charlotte  to  her 
companion. 

Wilfrid  flushed.  She  read  his  look ;  and  said,  when  they 
were  out  of  hearing,  "What  a  place  for  old  people  to  sit 
here  near  the  end  of  life !  The  idea  of  it  makes  one  almost 
forgive  the  necessity  for  getting  old  —  doesn't  it?  Tracy 
Runningbrook  might  make  a  poem  about  silver  heads  and 
sunset  —  something,  you  know !  Very  easy  cantering  then  — 
no  hunting !  I  suppose  one  wouldn't  have  even  a  desire  to 
go  fast  —  a  sort  of  cock-horse,  just  as  we  began  with.  The 
stables,  let  me  tell  you,  are  too  near  the  scullery.  One  is 
bound  to  devise  measures  for  the  protection  of  the  morals  of 
the  household." 

While  she  was  speaking,  Wilfrid's  thoughts  ran :  "  My 
time  has  come  to  strike  for  liberty." 

This  too  she  perceived,  and  was  prepared  for  him. 

He  said :  "  Lady  Charlotte,  I  feel  that  I  must  tell  you 
...  I  fear  that  I  have  been  calculating  rather  more  hope- 
fully .  .  ."  Here  the  pitfall  of  sentiment  yawned  before  him 
on  a  sudden.  "  I  mean  "  (he  struggled  to  avoid  it,  but  was 
at  the  brink  in  the  next  sentence)  " — I  mean,  dear  lady, 
that  I  had  hopes  .  .  .  Besworth  pleased  you  ...  to  offer 
you  this  ..." 

"  With  yourself  ?  "  she  relieved  him.  A  different  manner 
in  a  protesting  male  would  have  charmed  her  better.  She 
excused  him,  knowing  what  stood  in  his  way. 

"That  I  scarcely  dared  to  hope,"  said  Wilfrid,  bewildered 
to  see  the  loose  chain  he  had  striven  to  cast  off  gather  tightly 
round  him. 

"You  do  hope  it?" 

"  I  have." 

"  You  have  hoped  that  I  ..."  (she  was  not  insolent  by 
nature,  and  corrected  the  form)  "  —  to  marry  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Lady  Charlotte,  I  —  I  had  that  hope  ...  if  I  could 
have  offered  this  place  —  Besworth.  I  find  that  my  father 
will  never  buy  it;  I  have  misunderstood  him." 

He  fixed  his  eyes  on  her,  expecting  a  cool,  or  an  ironical, 
rejoinder  to  end  the  colloquy;  —  after  which,  fair  freedom! 
She  answered,  "  We  may  do  very  well  without  it." 

Wilfrid  was  not  equal  to  a  start  and  the  trick  of  rapturous 


250  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

astonishment.  He  heard  the  words  like  the  shooting  of  dun- 
geon-bolts, thinking,  "  Oh,  heaven !  if  at  the  first  I  had  only 
told  the  woman  I  do  not  love  her !  "  But  that  sentimental 
lead  had  ruined  him.  And,  on  second  thoughts,  how  could 
he  have  spoken  thus  to  the  point,  when  they  had  never  pre- 
viously dealt  in  anything  save  sentimental  implications  ? 
The  folly  was  in  his  speaking  at  all.  The  game  was  now  in 
Lady  Charlotte's  hands. 

Adela,  in  another  part  of  the  field,  had  released  herself  by 
a  consummate  use  of  the  same  weapon  Wilfrid  had  so 
clumsily  handled.  Her  object  was  to  put  an  end  to  the 
absurd  and  compromising  sighs  of  Edward  Buxley ;  and  she 
did  so  with  the  amiable  contempt  of  a  pupil  dismissing  a  first 
instructor  in  an  art  —  "  We  saw  from  the  beginning  it  could 
not  be,  Edward."  The  enamoured  caricaturist  vainly  pro- 
tested that  he  had  not  seen  it  from  the  beginning,  and  did 
not  now.  He  recalled  to  her  that  she  had  said  he  was  '  her 
first.'  She  admitted  the  truth,  with  eyes  dwelling  on  him, 
until  a  ringlet  got  displaced.  Her  first.  To  be  that,  senti- 
mental man  would  perish  in  the  fires.  To  have  been  that  will 
sometimes  console  him,  even  when  he  has  lived  to  see  what 
a  thing  he  was  who  caught  the  budding  fancy.  The  unhappy 
caricaturist  groaned  between  triumph  as  a  leader,  and  anguish 
at  the  prospect  of  a  possible  host  of  successors.  King  in 
that  pure  bosom,  the  thought  would  come  —  King  of  a 
mighty  line,  mayhap  !  And  sentimental  man,  awakened  to 
this  disastrous  view  of  things,  endures  shrewder  pangs  of 
rivalry  in  the  contemplation  of  his  usurping  posterity  than 
if,  as  do  they,  he  looked  forward  to  a  tricked,  perfumed, 
pommaded  whipster,  pirouetting  like  any  Pierrot  —  the  envi- 
able image  of  the  one  who  realized  her  first  dream,  and  to 
whom  specially  missioned  angels  first  opened  the  golden 
Kates  of  her  heart. 

"  I  have  learnt  to  see,  Edward,  that  you  do  not  honour  me 
with  a  love  you  have  diverted  from  one  worthier  than  I 
am ; "  and  in  answer  to  the  question  whether,  though  having 
to  abjure  her  love,  she  loved  him:  "No,  no;  it  is  my 
Arabella  I  love.  I  love,  I  will  love,  no  one  but  her"  — 
with  sundry  caressing  ejaculations  that  spring  a  thirst  for 
kisses,  and  a  tender  'putting  of  the  case,'  now  and  then. 

So  much  for  Adela's  part  in  the  conflict.     Edward  was 


BESWOETH  LAWN  251 

unaware  that  the  secret  of  her  mastering  him  was,  that  she 
was  now  talking  common-sense  in  the  tone  of  sentiment. 
He,  on  the  contrary,  talked  sentiment  in  the  tone  of  com- 
mon-sense. Of  course  he  was  beaten:  and  0,  you  young 
lovers,  when  you  hear  the  dear  lips  setting  what  you  call 
the  world's  harsh  language  to  this  music,  know  that  an  hour 
has  struck  for  you !  It  is  a  fatal  sound  to  hear.  Edward 
believed  that  his  pleading  had  produced  an  effect  when  he 
saw  Miss  Adela's  bosom  rise  as  with  a  weight  on  it.  The 
burden  of  her  thoiights  was  —  "How  big  and  heavy 
Edward's  eyes  look  when  he  is  not  amusing !  "  To  get  rid 
of  him  she  said,  as  with  an  impassioned  coldness,  "Go." 
Her  figure,  repeating  this  under  closed  eyelids,  was  myste- 
rious, potent.  When  he  exclaimed,  "  Then  I  will  go,"  her 
eyelids  lifted  wide :  she  shut  them  instantly,  showing  at  the 
same  time  a  slight  tightening-in  of  the  upper  lip.  You 
beheld  a  creature  tied  to  the  stake  of  Duty. 

But  she  was  exceedingly  youthful,  and  had  not  reckoned 
upon  man's  being  a  live  machine,  possessing  impulses  of  his 
own.  A  violent  seizure  of  her  waist,  and  enough  of  kisses 
to  make  up  the  sum  popularly  known  as  a  '  shower,'  stopped 
her  performance.  She  struggled,  and  muttered  passionately 
to  be  released.  "  We  are  seen,"  she  hazarded.  At  the 
repetition,  Edward,  accustomed  to  dread  the  warning,  let 
her  go  and  fled.  Turning  hurriedly  about,  Adela  found 
that  she  had  spoken  truth  unawares,  and  never  wished  so 
much  that  she  had  lied.  Sir  Twickenham  Pryme  came  for- 
ward to  her,  with  his  usual  stiff  courtly  step. 

"If  you  could  have  been  a  little  —  a  little  earlier,"  she 
murmured,  with  an  unflurried  face,  laying  a  trembling  hand 
in  his ;  and  thus  shielded  herself  from  a  suspicion. 

"  Could  I  know  that  I  was  wanted  ?  "  He  pressed  her 
hand. 

"  I  only  know  that  I  wish  I  had  not  left  your  side,"  said 
she  —  adding,  "  Though  you  must  have  thought  me  what,  if 
I  were  a  man,  you  Members  of  Parliament  would  call  '  a 
bore,'  for  asking  perpetual  questions." 

"Nay,  an  apposite  interrogation  is  the  guarantee  of  a 
proper  interest  in  the  subject,"  said  the  baronet. 

Cornelia  was  very  soon  reverted  to. 

"  Her  intellect  is  contemplative/'  said  Adela,  exhibiting 


252  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

marvellous  mental  composure.  "  She  would  lose  her  unerr- 
ing judgement  in  active  life.  She  cannot  weigh  things  in 
her  mind  rapidly.  She  is  safe  if  her  course  of  action  is 
clear." 

Sir  Twickenham  reserved  his  opinion  of  the  truth  of  this. 
"I  wonder  whether  she  can  forgive  those  who  offend  or 
insult  her,  easily  ?  " 

A  singular  pleasure  warmed  Adela's  veins.  Her  cheeks 
kindling,  she  replied,  giving  him  her  full  face.  "  No ;  if 
they  are  worthy  of  punishment.  But"  —  and  now  he 
watched  a  downcast  profile  —  "one  must  have  some  for- 
giveness for  fools." 

"  Indeed,  you  speak  like  charity  out  of  the  windows  of 
wisdom,"  said  the  baronet. 

"Do  you  not  require  in  Parliament  to  be  tolerant  at 
times  ?  "  Adela  pursued. 

He  admitted  it,  and  to  her  outcry  of  "  Oh,  that  noble  pub- 
lic life ! "  smiled  deprecatingly  —  "  My  dear  young  lady,  if 
you  only  knew  the  burden  it  brings ! " 

"  It  brings  its  burden,"  said  Adela,  correcting,  with  a  most 
proper  instinct,  another  enthusiastic  burst.  "  At  the  same 
time  the  honour  is  above  the  load.  Am  I  talking  too  roman- 
tically ?  You  are  at  least  occupied." 

"  Nine-tenths  of  us  to  no  very  good  purpose,"  the  baronet 
appended. 

She  rejoined:  "If  it  were  but  a  fraction,  the  good  done 
would  survive." 

"  And  be  more  honourable  to  do,  perhaps,"  he  ejaculated. 
"  The  consolation  should  be  great." 

"And  is  somehow  small,"  said  she;  and  they  laughed 
softly. 

At  this  stage,  Adela  was  l  an  exceedingly  interesting  young 
person'  in  Sir  Twickenham's  mental  register.  He  tried  her 
on  politics  and  sociology.  She  kept  her  ears  open,  and  fol- 
lowed his  lead  carefully  —  venturing  here  and  there  to  indi- 
cate an  opinion,  and  suggesting  dissent  in  a  pained  interroga- 
tion. Finally,  "  I  confess,"  she  said,  "  I  understand  much  less 
than  I  am  willing  to  think ;  and  so  I  console  myself  with  the 
thought  that,  after  all,  the  drawing-room,  and  the  ...  the 
kitchen  ?  —  well,  an  educated  '  female '  must  serve  her  term 
there,  if  she  would  be  anything  better  than  a  mere  ornament, 


BESWORTH   LAWN  253 

even  in  the  highest  walks  of  life  —  I  mean  the  household  is 
our  sphere.  From  that  we  mount  to  companionship  —  if  we 
can." 

Amazement  of  Sir  Twickenham,  on  finding  his  own  thought 
printed,  as  it  were,  on  the  air  before  him  by  these  pretty  lips ! 

The  conversation  progressed,  until  Adela,  by  chance, 
turned  her  eyes  up  a  cross  pathway  and  perceived  her  sister 
Cornelia  standing  with  Mr.  Barrett  under  a  beech.  The  man 
certainly  held  one  of  her  hands  pressed  to  his  heart ;  and 
her  attitude  struck  a  doubt  whether  his  other  hand  was  dis- 
engaged or  her  waist  free.  Adela  walked  nervously  on  with- 
out looking  at  the  baronet ;  she  knew  by  his  voice  presently 
that  his  eyes  had  also  witnessed  the  sight.  "  Two  in  a  day," 
she  thought ;  "  what  will  he  imagine  us  to  be ! "  The  baronet 
was  thinking :  "  For  your  sister  exposed,  you  display  more 
agitation  than  for  yourself  insulted." 

Adela  found  Arabella  in  so  fresh  a  mood  that  she  was  sure 
good  news  had  been  heard.  It  proved  that  Mrs.  Chump  had 
sent  a  few  lines  in  a  letter  carried  by  Braintop,  to  this  effect : 
"  My  dears  all !  I  found  your  father  on  his  back  in  bed,  and 
he  discharged  me  out  of  the  room ;  and  the  sight  of  me  put 
him  on  his  legs,  and  you  will  soon  see  him.  Be  civil  to  Mr. 
Braintop,  who  is  a  faithful  young  man,  of  great  merit,  and 
show  your  gratitude  to  —  MARTHA  CHUMP." 

Braintop  confirmed  the  words  of  the  letter:  and  then 
Adela  said  —  "  You  will  do  us  the  favour  to  stay  and  amuse 
yourself  here.  To-night  there  will  be  a  bed  at  Brookfield." 

"What  will  he  do?"  Arabella  whispered. 

"  Associate  with  the  Tinleys,"  returned  Adela. 

In  accordance  with  the  sentiment  here  half  concealed, 
Brookfield  soon  showed  that  it  had  risen  from  the  hour  of 
depression  when  it  had  simply  done  its  duty.  Arabella 
formed  an  opposition-Court  to  the  one  in  which  she  had 
studied ;  but  Mr.  Pericles  defeated  her  by  constantly  send- 
ing to  her  for  advice  concerning  the  economies  of  the  feast. 
Nevertheless,  she  exhibited  good  pretensions  to  social  queen- 
dom,  both  personal  and  practical ;  and  if  Freshfield  Sumner, 
instead  of  his  crisp  waspish  comments  on  people  and  things, 
had  seconded  her  by  keeping  up  a  two-minutes'  flow  of  talk 
from  time  to  time,  she  might  have  thought  that  Lady  Gosstre 
was  only  luckier  than  herself  —  not  better  endowed. 


254  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

Below,  the  Tinleys  and  their  set  surrounded  Mr.  Pericles 
—  prompting  him,  as  was  seen,  to  send  up  continual  mes- 
sages. One,  to  wit,  "Is  there  to  be  dancing  to-night?" 
being  answered,  "Now,  if  you  please,"  provoked  sarcastic 
cheering;  and  Laura  ran  up  to  say,  "How  kind  of  you! 
We  appreciate  it.  Continue  to  dispense  blessings  on  poor 
mortals." 

"  By  the  way,  though  "  (Freshfield  took  his  line  from  the 
calm  closed  lips  of  his  mistress),  "  poor  mortals  are  not  in 
the  habit  of  climbing  Olympus  to  ask  favours." 

"  I  perceived  no  barrier,"  quoth  Laura. 

"  Audacity  never  does." 

"  Pray,  how  am  I  to  be  punished  ?  " 

Freshfield  paused  for  a  potent  stroke.  "Not  like  Semele. 
She  saw  the  God :  —  you  never  will ! " 

While  Laura  was  hanging  on  the  horrid  edge  between  a 
false  laugh  and  a  starting  blush,  Arabella  said:  "That 
visual  excommunication  has  been  pronounced  years  ago, 
Freshfield." 

"  Ah !  then  he  hasn't  changed  his  name  in  heaven  ? " 
Laura  touched  her  thus  for  the  familiar  use  of  the  gentle- 
man's Christian  name. 

"  You  must  not  imagine  that  very  great  changes  are  de- 
manded of  those  who  can  be  admitted." 

"  I  really  find  it  hotter  than  below,"  said  Laura,  flying. 

Arabella's  sharp  eyes  discerned  a  movement  in  Lady 
Gosstre's  circle ;  and  she  at  once  went  over  to  her,  and  en- 
treated the  great  lady,  who  set  her  off  so  well,  not  to  go. 
The  sunset  fronted  Besworth  Lawn ;  the  last  light  of  day 
was  danced  down  to  inspiriting  music :  and  now  Arabella 
sent  word  for  Besworth  hall-doors  and  windows  to  be  opened ; 
and  on  the  company  beginning  to  disperse,  there  beckoned 
promise  of  a  brilliant  supper-table.  "Admirable!"  said 
Lady  Gosstre,  and  the  encomium  was  general  among  the 
crowd  surrounding  Arabella ;  for  up  to  this  point  the  feast- 
ing had  been  delicate,  and  something  like  plain  hunger  pre- 
vailed. Indeed,  Arabella  had  heard  remarks  of  a  bad  nature, 
which  she  traced  to  the  Tinley  set,  and  bore  with,  to  meet 
her  present  reward.  Making  light  of  her  triumph,  she  en- 
couraged Freshfield  to  start  a  wit-contest,  and  took  part  in 
it  herself,  with  the  gaiety  of  an.  unoccupied  mind.  Her 


BESWORTH   LAWN  255 

sisters  had  aforetime  more  than  once  challenged  her  suprem- 
acy, but  they  bowed  to  it  now ;  and  Adela  especially  did 
when,  after  a  ringing  hit  to  Freshfield  (which  the  Tinleys 
might  also  take  to  their  own  bosoms),  she  said  in  an  under- 
tone, "  What  is  there  between  C.  and ?  "  Surprised 

by  this  astonishing  vigilance  and  power  of  thinking  below 
the  surface  while  she  performed  above  it,  Adela  incau- 
tiously turned  her  face  toward  the  meditative  baronet, 
and  was  humiliated  by  Arabella's  mute  indication  of  con- 
tempt for  her  coming  answer.  This  march  across  the  lawn 
to  the  lighted  windows  of  Besworth  was  the  culmination  of 
Brookfield's  joy,  and  the  crown  for  which  it  had  striven; 
though  for  how  short  a  term  it  was  to  be  worn  was  little 
known.  Was  it  not  a  very  queenly  sphere  of  Fine  Shades 
and  Nice  Feelings  that  Brookfield  had  realized? 

In  Arabella's  conscience  lay  a  certain  reproach  of  her- 
self for  permitting  the  "  vice  of  a  lower  circle  "  to  cling  to 
her  —  viz.,  she  had  still  betrayed  a  stupid  hostility  to  the 
Tinleys :  she  had  rejoiced  to  see  them  incapable  of  mixing 
with  any  but  their  own  set,  and  thus  be  stamped  publicly 
for  what  they  were.  She  had  struggled  to  repress  it,  and 
yet,  continually,  her  wits  were  in  revolt  against  her  judge- 
ment. Perhaps  one  reason  was  that  Albert  Tinley  had 
haunted  her  steps  at  an  early  part  of  the  day;  and  Albert 
—  a  sickening  City  young  man,  "  full  of  insolence,  and  half 
eyeglass,"  according  to  Freshfield —  had  once  ventured  to 
propose  for  her. 

The  idea  that  the  Tinleys  strove  to  catch  at  her  skirts 
made  Arabella  spiteful.  Up  to  the  threshold  of  Besworth, 
Freshfield,  Mr.  Powys,  Tracy,  and  Arabella  kept  the  wheel 
of  a  dazzling  run  of  small-talk,  throwing  intermittent 
sparks.  Laura  Tinley  would  press  up,  apparently  to  hear, 
but  in  reality  (as  all  who  knew  her  could  see)  with  the 
object  of  being  a  rival  representative  of  her  sex  in  this 
illustrious  rare  encounter  of  divine  intelligences.  "You 
are  anxious  to  know?"  said  Arabella,  hesitatingly. 

"To  know,  dear?"  echoed  Laura. 

"There  was,  I  presumed,  something  you  did  not  hear." 
Arabella  was  half  ashamed  of  the  rudeness  to  which  her 
antagonism  to  Laura's  vulgarity  forced  her. 

"Oh!  I  hear  everything,"  Laura  assured  her. 


256  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"  Indeed !  "  said  Arabella.  "  By  the  way,  who  conducts 
you? "  (Laura  was  on  Edward  Buxley's  arm.)  " Oh!  will 
you  go  to  "  —  such  and  such  an  end  of  the  table.  "  And  if, 
Lady  Gosstre,  I  may  beg  of  you  to  do  me  the  service  to  go 
there  also,"  was  added  aloud;  and  lower,  but  quite  audibly, 
"Mr.  Pericles  will  have  music,  so  there  can  be  no  talking." 
This,  with  the  soup$on  of  a  demi-shrug;  "You  will  not 
suffer  much"  being  implied.  Laura  said  to  herself,  "I  am 
not  a  fool."  A  moment  after,  Arabella  was  admitting  in 
her  own  mind,  as  well  as  Fine  Shades  could  interpret  it, 
that  she  was.  On  entering  the  dining-hall,  she  beheld  two 
figures  seated  at  the  point  whither  Laura  was  led  by  her 
partner.  These  were  Mrs.  Chump  and  Mr.  Pole,  with 
champagne  glasses  in  their  hands.  Arabella  was  pushed 
on  by  the  inexorable  crowd  of  hungry  people  behind. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE   SUPPER 


DESPITE  the  pouring  in  of  the  flood  of  guests  about  the 
tables,  Mrs.  Chump  and  Mr.  Pole  sat  apparently  uncon- 
cerned in  their  places,  and,  as  if  to  show  their  absolute 
indifference  to  observation  and  opinion,  went  through  the 
ceremony  of  drinking  to  one  another,  upon  which  they 
nodded  and  chuckled :  a  suspicious  eye  had  the  option  of 
divining  that  they  used  the  shelter  of  the  table  cloth  for  an 
interchange  of  squeezes.  This  would  have  been  further 
strengthened  by  Mrs.  Chump's  arresting  exclamation, 
"  Pole !  Company !  "  Mr.  Pole  looked  up.  He  recognized 
Lady  Gosstre,  and  made  an  attempt,  in  his  usual  brisk 
style,  to  salute  her.  Mrs.  Chump  drew  him  back.  "  Koth- 
in'  but  his  legs,  my  lady,"  she  whispered.  "There's 
nothin'  sets  'm  up  like  champagne,  my  dears!"  she  called 
out  to  the  Three  of  Brookfield. 

Those  ladies  were  now  in  the  hall,  gazing,  as  mildly  as 
humanity  would  allow,  at  their  common  destiny,  thus  star- 
tlmgly  displayed.  There  was  no  doubt  in  the  bosom  of 


THE   SUPPER  257 

either  one  of  them  that  exposure  was  to  follow  this  prelude. 
Mental  resignation  was  not  even  demanded  of  them  —  merely 
physical.  They  did  not  seek  comfort  in  an  interchange  o"f 
glances,  but  dropped  their  eyes,  and  masked  their  sight  as 
they  best  could.  Caesar  assassinated  did  a  similar  thing. 

"  My  dears !  "  pursued  Mrs.  Chump,  in  Irish  exaggerated 
by  wine,  "I've  found  'm  for  ye!  And  if  ye'd  seen  'm  this 
afternoon  —  the  little  peaky,  shaky  fellow  that  he  was! 
and  a  doctor,  too,  f eelin'  his  pulse.  '  Is  ut  slow, '  says  I, 
1  doctor? '  and  draws  a  bottle  of  champagne.  He  could  hardly 
stand  before  his  first  glass.  'Pon  my  hon'r,  my  lady,  ye 
naver  saw  s'ch  a  change  in  a  mortal  bein'. — Pole,  didn't 
ye  go  'ha,  ha! '  now,  and  seem  to  be  nut-cracking  with  your 
fingers?  He  did;  and  if  ye  aver  saw  an  astonished  doctor! 
'Why,'  says  I,  'doctor,  ye  think  ut's  maguc!  Why,  where's 
the  secret?  1  drink  with  'm,  to  be  sure!  And  you  go  and 
do  that,  my  lord  doctor,  my  dear  Mr.  Doctor!  Do  ut  all 
round,  and  your  patients  '11  bless  your  feet.'  Why,  isn't 
cheerful  society  and  champagne  the  vary  best  of  medicine, 
if  onnly  the  blood  '11  go  of  itself  a  little?  The  fault's  in  his 
legs;  he's  all  right  at  top!  — if  he'd  smooth  his  hair  a  bit." 

Checking  her  tongue,  Mrs.  Chump  performed  this  service 
lightly  for  him,  in  the  midst  of  his  muttered  comments  on 
her  Irish. 

The  fact  was  manifest  to  the  whole  assembly,  that  they 
had  indeed  been  drinking  champagne  to  some  purpose. 

Wilfrid  stepped  up  to  two  of  his  sisters,  warning  them 
hurriedly  not  to  go  to  their  father :  Adela  he  arrested  with 
a  look,  but  she  burst  the  restraint  to  fulfil  a  child's  duty. 
She  ran  up  gracefully,  and  taking  her  father's  hand,  mur- 
mured a  caressing  "  Dear  papa !  " 

"  There  —  all  right  —  quite  right  —  quite  well, "  Mr.  Pole 
repeated.  "  Glad  to  see  you  all :  go  away." 

He  tried  to  look  kindly  out  of  the  nervous  fit  into  which 
a  word,  in  a  significant  tone,  from  one  of  his  daughters  had 
instantly  plunged  him.  Mrs.  Chump  admonished  her: 
"Will  ye  undo  all  that  I've  been  doin'  this  blessed  day?1 

"Glad  you  haven't  missed  the  day  altogether,  sir,"  Wil- 
frid greeted  his  father  in  an  offhand  way. 

"  Ah,  my  boy ! "  went  the  old  man,  returning  him  what 
was  meant  for  a  bluff  nod. 


258  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

Lady  Charlotte  gave  Wilfrid  an  open  look.  It  meant: 
"  If  you  can  act  like  that,  and  know  as  much  as  I  know, 
you  are  worth  more  than  I  reckoned."  He  talked  evenly 
and  simply,  and  appeared  on  the  surface  as  composed  as 
any  of  the  guests  present.  Nor  was  he  visibly  disturbed 
when  Mrs.  Chump,  catching  his  eye,  addressed  him 
aloud :  — 

"  Ye'd  have  been  more  grateful  to  me  to  have  brought 
little  Belloni  as  well  now,  I  know,  Mr.  Wilfrid.  But  I 
was  just  obliged  to  leave  her  at  the  hotel;  for  Pole  can't 
endure  her.  He  'bomunates  the  sight  of  'r.  If  ye  aver 
saw  a  dog  burnt  by  the  fire,  Pole's  second  to  'm,  if  onnly 
ye  speak  that  garl's  name." 

The  head  of  a  strange  musician,  belonging  to  the  band 
stationed  outside,  was  thrust  through  one  of  the  window 
apertures.  Mr.  Pericles  beckoned  him  imperiously  to  re- 
tire, and  perform.  He  objected,  and  an  altercation  in  bad 
English  diverted  the  company.  It  was  changed  to  Italian. 
"Mia  figlia,"  seized  Wilfrid's  ear.  Mr.  Pericles  bellowed, 
"Allegro."  Two  minutes  after  Braintop  felt  a  touch  on 
his  shoulder ;  and  Wilfrid,  speaking  in  a  tone  of  friend  to 
friend,  begged  him  to  go  to  town  by  the  last  train  and  re- 
move Miss  Belloni  to  an  hotel,  which  he  named.  "Cer- 
tainly, "  said  Braintop ;  "  but  if  I  meet  her  father  .  .  .  ?  " 
Wilfrid  summoned  champagne  for  him;  whereupon  Mrs. 
Chump  cried  out,  "  Ye're  kind  to  wait  upon  the  young  man, 
Mr.  Wilfrid;  and  that  Mr.  Braintop's  an  invalu'ble  young 
man.  And  what  do  ye  want  with  the  hotel,  when  we've 
left  it,  Mr.  Paricles?  " 

The  Greek  raised  his  head  from  Mr.  Pole,  shrugging  at 
her  openly.  He  and  Wilfrid  then  measured  eyes  a  moment. 
"  Some  champagne  togezer?  "  said  Mr.  Pericles.  "  With  all 
my  heart,"  was  the  reply;  and  their  glasses  were  filled,  and 
they  bowed,  and  drank.  Wilfrid  took  his  seat,  drew  forth 
his  pocket-book;  and  while  talking  affably  to  Lady  Char- 
lotte beside  him,  and  affecting  once  or  twice  to  ponder  over 
her  remarks,  or  to  meditate  a  fitting  answer,  wrote  on  a 
slip  of  paper  under  the  table :  — 

"  Mine !  my  angel  I     You  will  see  me  to-morrow. 

"YOUR  LOVER." 


THE  SUPPER  259 

This,  being  inserted  in  an  envelope,  with  zig-zag  letters 
of  address  to  form  Emilia's  name,  he  contrived  to  pass  to 
Braintop's  hands,  and  resumed  his  conversation  with  Lady 
Charlotte,  who  said,  when  there  was  nothing  left  to  dis- 
cover, "But  what  is  it  you  concoct  down  there?"  "I!" 
cried  Wilfrid,  lifting  his  hands,  and  so  betraying  himself 
after  the  fashion  of  the  very  innocent.  She  despised  any 
reading  of  acts  not  on  the  surface,  and  nodded  to  the  ex- 
planation he  gave  —  to  wit :  "  By  the  way,  do  you  mean  — 
have  you  noticed  my  habit  of  touching  my  fingers'  ends  as 
I  talk?  I  count  them  backwards  and  forwards." 

"Shows  nervousness,"  said  Lady  Charlotte:  "you  are  a 
boy!" 

"Exceedingly  a  boy." 

"  Now  I  put  a  finger  on  his  vanity, "  said  she ;  and  thought 
indeed  that  she  had  played  on  him. 

"  Mr.  Pole,"  (Lady  Gosstre  addressed  that  gentleman,)  "  I 
must  hope  that  you  will  leave  this  dining-hall  as  it  is ;  there 
is  nothing  in  the  neighbourhood  to  match  it!  " 

"Delightful!"  interposed  Laura  Tinley;  "but  is  it 
settled?  " 

Mr.  Pole  leaned  forward  to  her  ladyship ;  and  suddenly 
catching  the  sense  of  her  words,  "Ah,  why  not?"  he  said, 
and  reached  his  hand  to  some  champagne,  which  he  raised 
to  his  mouth,  but  drank  nothing  of.  Reflection  appeared 
to  tell  him  that  his  safety  lay  in  drinking,  and  he  drained 
the  glass  at  a  gulp.  Mrs.  Chump  had  it  filled  immediately, 
and  explained  to  a  wondering  neighbour,  "  It's  that  that 
keeps  'm  on  his  legs." 

"We  shall  envy  you  immensely,"  said  Laura  Tinley  to 
Arabella;  who  replied,  "I  assure  you  that  no  decision  has 
been  come  to. " 

"  Ah,  you  want  to  surprise  us  with  cards  on  a  sudden 
from  Besworth ! " 

"  That  is  not  the  surprise  I  have  in  store, "  returned  Ara- 
bella sedately. 

"Then  you  have  a  surprise?     Do  tell  me." 

"  How  true  to  her  sex  is  the  lady  who  seeks  to  turn  'what 
it  is '  into '  what  it  isn't ! ' "  said  Freshfield,  trusty  lieutenant. 

"I  think  a  little  peeping  makes  surprises  sweeter;  I'm 
weak  enough  to  think  that,"  Lady  Charlotte  threw  in. 


260  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

"  That  is  so  true !  "  exclaimed  Laura. 

"Well;  and  a  secret  shared  is  a  fact  uncommonly  well 
aired  —  that  is  also  true.  But,  remember,  you  do  not  desire 
the  surprise ;  you  are  a  destroying  force  to  it ;  "  and  Fresh- 
field  bowed. 

"  Curiosity !  "  sighed  some  one,  relieving  Freshfield  from 
a  sense  of  the  guilt  of  heaviness. 

"  I  am  a  Pandora, "  Lauia  smilingly  said. 

"To  whom?"  Tracy  Runningbrook's  shout  was  heard. 

"  With  champagne  in  the  heads  of  the  men,  and  classics 
v-n  the  heads  of  the  women,  we  shall  come  to  something," 
remarked  Lady  Gosstre  half  to  herself  and  Georgiana  near 
her. 

An  observer  of  Mr.  Pole  might  have  seen  that  he  was 
fretting  at  a  restriction  on  his  tongue.  Occasionally  he 
would  sit  forward  erect  in  his  chair,  shake  his  coat-collar, 
frown,  and  sound  a  preparatory  'hem ;  but  it  ended  in  his 
rubbing  his  hair  away  on  the  back  of  his  head.  Mrs. 
Chump,  who  was  herself  perceiving  new  virtues  in  cham- 
pagne with  every  glass,  took  the  movements  as  indicative 
of  a  companion  exploration  of  the  spiritual  resources  of  this 
vintage.  She  no  longer  called  for  it,  but  lifted  a  majestic 
finger  (a  Siddons  or  tenth-Muse  finger,  as  Freshfield  named 
it)  behind  the  row  of  heads ;  upon  which  champagne  speedily 
bubbled  in  the  glasses.  Laughter  at  the  performance  had 
fairly  set  in.  Arabella  glanced  nervously  round  for  Mr. 
Pericles,  who  looked  at  his  watch  and  spread  the  fingers 
of  one  hand  open  thrice  —  an  act  that  telegraphed  fifteen 
minutes.  In  fifteen  minutes  an  opera  troupe,  with  three 
famous  chiefs  and  a  renowned  prima-donna  were  to  arrive. 
The  fact  was  known  solely  to  Arabella  and  Mr.  Pericles. 
It  was  the  Surprise  of  the  evening.  But  within  fifteen 
minutes,  what  might  not  happen,  with  heads  going  at 
champagne-pace  ? 

Arabella  proposed  to  Freshfield  to  rise.  "Don't  the 
ladies  go  first?"  the  wit  turned  sensualist  stammered;  and 
incurred  that  worse  than  frown,  a  cold  look  of  half -compre- 
hension, which  reduces  indefinitely  the  proportions  of  the 
object  gazed  at.  There  were  probably  a  dozen  very  young 
men  in  the  room  waiting  to  rise  with  their  partners  at  a 
signal  for  dancing;  and  these  could  not  be  calculated  upon 


THE  SUPPER  261 

to  take  an  initiative,  or  follow  one  —  as  ladies,  poor  slaves! 
will  do  when  the  electric  hostess  rustles.  The  men  present 
were  non-conductors.  Arabella  knew  that  she  could  carry 
off  the  women,  but  such  a  proceeding  would  leave  her  father 
at  the  mercy  of  the  wine;  and,  moreover,  the  probability 
was  that  Mrs.  Chump  would  remain  by  him,  and,  sole  in  a 
company  of  males,  explode  her  sex  with  ridicule,  Brook- 
field  in  the  bargain.  So  Arabella,  under  a  prophetic  sense 
of  evil,  waited ;  and  this  came  of  it.  Mr.  Pole  patted  Mrs. 
Chump's  hand  publicly.  In  spite  of  the  steady  hum  of 
small-talk  —  in  spite  of  Freshfield  Sumner's  circulation  of 
a  crisp  anecdote  —  in  spite  of  Lady  Gosstre's  kind  effort  to 
stop  him  by  engaging  him  in  conversation,  Mr.  Pole  forced 
on  for  a  speech.  He  said  that  he  had  not  been  the  thing 
lately.  It  might  be  his  legs,  as  his  dear  friend  Martha,  on 
his  right,  insisted;  but  he  had  felt  it  in  his  head,  though 
as  strong  as  any  man  present. 

"Harrk  at  'm!  "  cried  Mrs.  Chump,  letting  her  eyes  roll 
fondly  away  from  him  into  her  glass. 

"  Business,  my  lady  ! "  Mr.  Pole  resumed.  "  Ah,  you  don't 
know  what  that  is.  We've  got  to  work  hard  to  keep  our 
heads  up  equal  with  you.  We  don't  swim  with  corks.  And 
my  old  friend,  Ralph  Tinley  —  he  sells  iron,  and  has  got  a 
mine.  That's  simple.  But,  my  God,  ma'am,  when  a  man 
has  his  eye  on  the  Indian  Ocean,  and  the  Atlantic,  and  the 
Baltic,  and  the  Black  Sea,  and  half-a-dozen  colonies  at  once, 
he  —  you " 

"  Well,  it's  a  precious  big  eye  he's  got,  Pole,"  Mrs.  Chump 
came  to  his  relief. 

"  —  he  don't  know  whether  he's  a  ruined  dog,  or  a  man  to 
hold  up  his  head  in  any  company." 

"  Oh,  Lord,  Pole,  if  ye're  going  to  talk  of  beggary ! "  Mrs. 
Chump  threw  up  her  hands.  "  My  lady,  I  naver  could  abide 
the  name  of  't.  I'm  a  kind  heart,  ye  know,  but  I  can't  bear 
a  raggud  friend.  I  hate  'm !  He  seems  to  give  me  a  pinch." 

Having  uttered  this,  it  struck  her  that  it  was  of  a  kind  to 
convulse  Mrs.  Lupin,  for  whose  seizures  she  could  never 
accurately  account ;  and  looking  round,  she  perceived,  sure 
enough,  that  little  forlorn  body  agitated,  with  a  handker- 
chief to  her  mouth. 

"  As  to  Besworth,"  Mr.  Pole  had  continued,  "  I  might  buy 


262  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

twenty  Besworths.  If  —  if  the  cut  shows  the  right  card. 

If "  Sweat  started  on  his  forehead,  and  he  lifted  his 

eyebrows,  blinking.  "But  none!"  (he  smote  the  table) 
"  none  can  say  I  haven't  been  a  good  father !  I've  educated 
my  girls  to  marry  the  best  the  land  can  show.  I  bought  a 
house  to  marry  them  out  of ;  it  was  their  own  idea."  He 
caught  Arabella's  eyes.  "  I  thought  so,  at  all  events ;  for 
why  should  I  have  paid  the  money  if  I  hadn't  thought  so  ? 
when  then  —  yes,  that  sum  ..."  (was  he  choking !)  — 
"  saved  me !  —  saved  me ! " 

A  piteous  desperate  outburst  marked  the  last  words,  that 
seemed  to  struggle  from  a  tightened  cord. 

"  Not  that  there's  anything  the  matter,"  he  resumed,  with 
a  very  brisk  wink.  "  I'm  quite  sound :  heart's  sound,  lungs 
sound,  stomach  regular.  I  can  see,  and  smell,  and  hear. 
Sense  of  touch  is  rather  lumpy  at  times,  I  know ;  but  the 
doctor  says  it's  nothing  —  nothing  at  all ;  and  I  should  be 
all  right,  if  I  didn't  feel  that  I  was  always  wearing  a  great 
leaden  hat." 

"  My  gracious,  Pole,  if  ye're  not  talkin'  pos'tuv  nonsense ! " 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Chump. 

"Well,  my  dear  Martha"  (Mr.  Pole  turned  to  her  argu- 
mentatively),  "  how  do  you  account  for  my  legs  ?  I  feel  it 
at  top.  I  declare  I've  felt  the  edge  of  the  brim  half  a  yard 
out.  Now,  my  lady,  a  man  in  that  state  —  sound  and  strong 
as  the  youngest  —  but  I  mean  a  vexed  man — worried  man  — 
bothered  man,  he  doesn't  want  a  woman  to  look  after  him  j 
—  I  mean,  he  does  —  he  does !  And  why  won't  young  girls  — 
oh !  they  might,  they  might  —  see  that  ?  And  when  she's 
no  extra  expense,  but  brings  him  —  helps  him  to  face  —  and 
no  one  has  said  the  world's  a  jolly  world  so  often  as  I  have. 
It's  jolly ! "  He  groaned. 

Lady  Charlotte  saw  Wilfrid  gazing  at  one  spot  on  the 
table  without  a  change  of  countenance.  She  murmured  to 
him,  "  What  hits  you  hits  me." 

Mr.  Pole  had  recommenced,  on  the  evident  instigation  of 
Laura  Tinley,  though  Lady  Gosstre  and  Freshfield  Sumner 
had  both  sought  to  check  the  current.  In  Chump's  lifetime, 
it  appeared,  he  (Mr.  Pole)  had  thought  of  Mrs.  Chump  with 
a  respectful  ardour ;  and  albeit  she  was  no  longer  what  she 
was  when  Chump  brought  her  over,  a  blooming  Irish  girl  — 


THE   SUPPER  263 

«  her  hair  exactly  as  now,  the  black  curl  half  over  the  cheek, 
and  a  bright  laugh,  and  a  white  neck,  fat  round  arms, 
and " 

A  shout  of  "  Oh,  Pole !  ye  seem  to  be  undressin'  of  me 
before  them  all,"  diverted  the  neighbours  of  the  Beauty. 

"  Who  would  not  like  such  praise  ?  "  Laura  Tinley,  to 
keep  alive  the  subject,  laid  herself  open  to  Freshfield  by  a 
remark. 

"  At  the  same  personal  peril  ?  "  he  inquired  smoothly. 

Mr.  Pericles  stood  up,  crying  "  Enfin ! "  as  the  doors  were 
flung  open,  and  a  great  Signora  of  operatic  fame  entered  the 
hall,  supported  on  one  side  by  a  charming  gentleman  (a 
tenore),  who  shared  her  fame  and  more  with  her.  In  the 
rear  were  two  working  baritones ;  and  behind  them,  outside, 
Italian  heads  might  be  discerned. 

The  names  of  the  Queen  of  Song  and  Prince  of  Singers 
flew  round  the  room ;  and  Laura  uttered  words  of  real  grati- 
tude, for  the  delightful  surprise,  to  Arabella,  as  the  latter 
turned  from  her  welcome  of  them.  "She  is  exactly  like 
Emilia  —  young,"  was  uttered.  The  thought  went  with  a 
pang  through  Wilfrid's  breast.  When  the  Signora  was 
asked  if  she  would  sup  or  take  champagne,  and  she  replied 
that  she  would  sup  by-and-by,  and  drink  porter  now,  the 
likeness  to  Emilia  was  established  among  the  Poles. 

Meantime  the  unhappy  Braintop  received  an  indication 
that  he  must  depart.  As  he  left  the  hall  he  brushed  past 
the  chief-clerk  of  his  office,  who  soon  appeared  bowing  and 
elbowing  among  the  guests.  "  What  a  substitute  for  me ! " 
thought  Braintop  bitterly ;  and  in  the  belief  that  this  old 
clerk  would  certainly  go  back  that  night,  and  might  under- 
take his  commission,  he  lingered  near  the  band  on  the  verge 
of  the  lawn.  A  touch  at  his  elbow  startled  him.  In  the 
half-light  he  discerned  Emilia.  "  Don't  say  you  have  seen 
me,"  were  her  first  words.  But  when  he  gave  her  the  letter, 
she  drew  him  aside,  and  read  it  by  the  aid  of  lighted  matches 
held  in  Braintop's  hat  —  drawing  in  her  fervent  breath  to  a 
"  Yes !  yes ! "  at  the  close,  while  she  pressed  the  letter  to 
her  throat.  Presently  the  singing  began  in  an  upper  room, 
that  had  shortly  before  flashed  with  sudden  light  Brain- 
top  entreated  Emilia  to  go  in,  and  then  rejoiced  that  she 
had  refused.  They  stood  in  a  clear  night-air,  under  a  yel- 


264  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

lowing  crescent,  listening  to  the  voice  of  an  imperial  woman. 
Impressed  as  he  was,  Braintop  had,  nevertheless,  leisure  to 
look  out  of  his  vinous  mist  and  notice,  with  some  misgiving, 
a  parading  light  at  a  certain  distance — apparently  the  light 
of  cigarettes  being  freshly  kindled.  He  was  too  much  elated 
to  feel  alarm :  but  "  If  her  father  were  to  catch  me  again," 
he  thought.  And  with  Emilia  on  his  arm  ! 

Mr.  Pole's  chief-clerk  had  brought  discomposing  news. 
He  was  received  with  an  outburst  of  "  No  business,  Payne ; 
I  won't  have  business ! " 

Turning  to  Mr.  Pericles,  the  old  clerk  said:  "I  came 
rather  for  you,  sir,  not  expecting  to  find  Mr.  Pole."  He 
was  told  by  Mr.  Pericles  to  speak  what  he  had  to  say :  and 
then  the  guests,  who  had  fallen  slightly  back,  heard  a  cavern- 
ous murmur;  and  some,  whose  eyes  were  on  Mr.  Pole,  ob- 
served a  sharp  conflict  of  white  and  red  in  his  face. 

"  There,  there,  there,  there !  "  went  Mr.  Pole.  "  'Hem, 
Pericles!"  His  handkerchief  was  drawn  out;  and  he  be- 
came engaged,  as  it  were,  in  wiping  a  moisture  from  the 
palm  of  his  hand.  "Pericles,  have  you  got  pluck  now? 
Eh?" 

Mr.  Pericles  had  leaned  down  his  ear  for  the  whole  of  the 
news. 

"Ten  sossand,"  he  said,  smoothing  his  wristbands,  and 
then  inserting  his  thumbs  into  the  pits  of  his  waistcoat. 
"  Also  a  chance  of  forty.  Let  us  not  lose  time  for  ze  music." 

He  walked  away. 

"  I  don't  believe  in  that  d — d  coolness,  ma'am,"  said  Mr. 
Pole,  wheeling  round  on  Freshfield  Sumner.  "  It's  put  on. 
That  fellow  wears  a  mask;  he's  one  of  those  confounded 
humbugs  who  wear  a  mask.  Ten  —  forty !  and  all  for  a 
shrug ;  it's  not  human.  I  tell  you,  he  does  that  just  out  of 
a  sort  of  jealousy  to  rival  me  as  an  Englishman.  Because 
I'm  cool,  he  must  be.  Do  you  think  a  mother  doesn't  feel 
the  loss  of  her  children  ?  " 

"  I  fear  that  I  must  grow  petticoats  before  I  can  answer 
purely  feminine  questions,"  said  Freshfield. 

"  Of  course  —  of  course,"  assented  Mr.  Pole ;  "  and  a  man 
feels  like  a  mother  to  his  money.  For  the  moment,  he  does 
—  for  the  moment.  What  were  those  fellows  —  Spartans  — 
women  who  cut  off  their  breasts ?  " 


THE  SUPPER  265 

Freshfield  suggested,  "  Amazons." 

"  No ;  they  were  women,"  Mr.  Pole  corrected  him ;  "  and 
if  anything  hurt  them,  they  never  cried  out.  That's  what— 
ha !  —  our  friend  Pericles  is  trying  at.  He's  a  fool.  He  won't 
sleep  to-night.  He'll  lie  till  he  gets  cold  in  the  feet,  and  then 
tuck  them  up  like  a  Dutch  doll,  and  perspire  cold  till  his 
heart  gives  a  bound,  and  he'll  jump  up  and  think  liis  last 
hour's  come.  Wind  on  the  stomach,  do  ye  call  it  ?  I  say 
it's  wearing  a  mask ! " 

The  bird's-eyes  of  the  little  merchant  shot  decisive  meaning. 

Two  young  ladies  had  run  from  his  neighbourhood,  making 
as  if  to  lift  hands  to  ears.  The  sight  of  them  brought  Mrs, 
Chump  to  his  side.  "  Pole !  Pole ! "  she  said,  "  is  there  anny- 
thing  wrong  ?  " 

"  Wrong,  Martha  ?  "  He  bent  to  her,  attempting  Irish  — 
"  Arrah,  now !  and  mustn't  all  be  right  if  you're  here  ?  " 

She  smote  his  cheek  fondly.  "  Ye're  not  a  bit  of  an  Irish- 
man, ye  deer  little  fella." 

"  Come  along  and  dance,"  cried  he  imperiously. 

"  A  pretty  spectacle  —  two  fandangoes,  when  there's  sing- 
ing, ye  silly ! "  Mrs.  Chump  led  him  upstairs,  chafing  one 
of  his  hands,  and  remarking  loudly  on  the  wonder  it  was  to 
see  his  knees  constantly  '  give '  as  he  walked. 

On  the  dark  lawn,  pressing  Wilfrid's  written  words  for  fiery 
nourishment  to  her  heart,  Emilia  listened  to  the  singing. 

"Why  do  people  make  a  noise,  and  not  be  satisfied  to 
feel  f  "  she  said  angrily  to  Braintop,  as  a  great  clapping  of 
hands  followed  a  divine  aria.  Her  ideas  on  this  point  would 
have  been  different  in  the  room. 

By  degrees  a  tender  delirium  took  hold  of  her  senses ;  and 
then  a  subtle  emotion — which  was  partly  prompted  by  dim 
rivalry  with  the  voice  that  seemed  to  be  speaking  so  richly  to 
the  man  she  loved  —  set  her  bosom  rising  and  falling.  She 
translated  it  to  herself  thus :  "  What  a  joy  it  will  be  to  him 
to  hear  me  now ! "  And  in  a  pause  she  sang  clear  out  — 

"Priroa  d' Italia  arnica;" 

and  hung  on  the  last  note,  to  be  sure  that  she  would  be  heard 
by  him. 

Braintop  saw  the  cigarette  dash  into  sparks  on  the  grass. 
At  the  same  moment  a  snarl  of  critical  vituperation  told 


266  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

Emilia  that  she  had  offended  taste  and  her  father.  He  shouted 
her  name,  and,  striding  up  to  her,  stumbled  over  Braintop, 
whom  he  caught  with  one  hand,  while  the  other  fell  firmly 
on  Emilia. 

'"Arnica — amica-a-a,'"  he  burlesqued  her  stress  of  the 
luckless  note — lowing  it  at  her,  and  telling  her  in  triumphant 
Italian  that  she  was  found  at  last.  Braintop,  after  a  short 
struggle  and  an  effort  at  speech,  which  was  loosely  shaken 
in  his  mouth,  heard  that  he  stood  a  prisoner.  "  Eh !  you 
"have  not  lost  your  cheeks,"  insulted  his  better  acquaintance 
with  English  slang.  Alternately  in  this  queer  tongue  and  in 
Italian  the  pair  of  victims  were  addressed. 

Emilia  knew  her  father's  temper.  He  had  a  habit  of  dally- 
ing with  an  evil  passion  till  it  boiled  over  and  possessed  him. 
Believing  Braintop  to  be  in  danger  of  harm,  she  beckoned 
to  some  of  the  faces  crowding  the  windows ;  but  the  move- 
ment was  not  seen,  as  none  of  the  circumstances  were 
at  all  understood.  Wilfrid,  however,  knew  well  who  had 
sung  those  three  bars,  concerning  which  the  'Prima  donna ' 
questioned  Mr.  Pericles,  and  would  not  be  put  off  by  hearing 
that  it  was  a  startled  jackdaw,  or  an  owl,  or  an  old  nightin- 
gale. The  Greek  rubbed  his  hands.  "  Now  to  recommence," 
he  said ;  "  and  we  shall  not  notice  a  jackdaw  again."  His 
eye  went  sideways  watchfully  at  Wilfrid.  "  You  like  zat 
piece  of  opera  ?  " 

"  Immensely,"  said  Wilfrid,  half  bowing  to  the  Signora  — 
to  whom,  as  to  Majesty,  Mr.  Pericles  introduced  him,  and 
fixed  him. 

K  Now  !  to  seats  !  " 

Mr.  Pericles'  mandate  was  being  obeyed,  when  a  cry  of 
"  Wilfrid  !  "  from  Emilia  below,  raised  a  flutter. 

Mr.  Pole  had  been  dozing  in  his  chair.  He  rose  at  the  cry, 
looking  hard,  with  a  mechanical  jerk  of  the  neck,  at  two  or 
three  successive  faces,  and  calling,  "  Somebody —  somebody  " 
to  take  his  outstretched  hand  trembling  in  a  paroxysm  of 
nervous  terror. 

_  Hearing  his  son's  name  again,  but  more  faintly,  he  raised 
his  voice  for  Martha.  "  Don't  let  that  girl  come  near  me  ! 
I  —  I  can't  get  on  with  foreign  girls." 

His  eyes  went  among  the  curious  faces  surrounding  him. 
« Wilfrid!"  he  siouted.  To  the  second  summons,  "Sir" 


THE   SUPPER  267 

was  replied,  in  the  silence.  Neither  saw  ine  other  as  they 
spoke. 

"  Are  you  going  out  to  her,  Wilfrid  ?  " 

"  Some  one  called  me,  sir." 

"  He's  got  the  cunning  of  hell,"  said  Mr.  Pole,  baffled  by 
his  own  agitation. 

"  Oh !  don't  talk  o'  that  place,"  moaned  Mrs.  Chump. 

"Stop!"  cried  the  old  man.  "Are  you  going?  Stop! 
you  shan't  do  mischief.  I  mean  —  there  —  stop!  Don't 
go.  You're  not  to  go.  I  say  you're  not  to  go  out." 

Emphasis  and  gesticulations  gave  their  weight  to  the 
plain  words. 

But  rage  at  the  upset  of  all  sentiment  and  dignity  that 
day  made  Wilfrid  reckless,  and  he  now  felt  his  love  to  be 
all  he  had.  He  heard  his  Emilia  being  dragged  away  to 
misery  —  perhaps  to  be  sold  to  shame.  Maddened,  he  was 
incapable  of  understanding  his  father's  state,  or  caring  for 
what  the  world  thought.  His  sisters  gathered  near  him, 
but  were  voiceless. 

"  Is  he  gone  ?  "  Mr.  Pole  burst  forward.  "  You're  gone, 
sir  ?  Wilfrid,  have  you  gone  to  that  girl  ?  I  ask  you 
whether  .  .  .  (there's  one  shot  at  my  heart,"  he  added  in 
a  swift  undertone  to  one  of  the  heads  near  him,  while  he 
caught  at  his  breast  with  both  hands).  "  Wilfrid,  will  you 
stay  here  ?  " 

"  For  God's  sake,  go  to  him,  Wilfrid,"  murmured  Adela. 
"  I  can't." 

"Because,  if  you  do  —  if  you  don't  —  I  mean,  if  you  go 
.  .  ."  The  old  man  gasped  in  the  same  undertone.  "  Now 
I  have  got  it  in  my  throat." 

A  quick  physical  fear  caught  hold  of  him.  In  a  moment 
his  voice  changed  to  entreaty.  "I  beg  you  won't  go,  my 
dear  boy.  Wilfrid,  I  tell  you,  don't  go.  Because,  you 

wouldn't  act  like  a  d — d  I'm  not  angry;  but  it  is 

like  acting  like  a Here's  company,  Wilfrid ;  come  to 

me,  my  boy ;  do  come  here.  You  mayn't  ha —  have  your 
poor  old  father  long,  now  he's  got  you  u —  up  in  the  world. 
I  mean  accidents,  for  I'm  sound  enough ;  only  a  little  ner- 
vous from  brain Is  he  gone  ?  " 

Wilfrid  was  then  leaving  the  room. 

Lady  Gosstre  had  been  speaking  to  Mr.  Powys.     She  was 


268  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

about  to  say  a  word  to  Lady  Charlotte,  when  the  latter 
walked  to  the  doorway,  and,  in  a  manner  that  smote  his 
heart  with  a  spasm  of  gratitude,  said:  "Don't  heed  these 
people.  He  will  bring  on  a  fit  if  you  don't  stop.  His  nerves 
are  out,  and  the  wine  they  have  given  him  ...  Go  to  him : 
I  will  go  to  Emilia,  and  do  as  much  for  her  as  you  could." 
Wilfrid  reached  his  father  in  time  to  see  him  stagger  back 
into  the  arms  of  Mrs.  Chump,  whose  supplication  was  for 
the  female  stimulant  known  as  '  something.' 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

DEFEAT    AND    FLIGHT    OF    MRS.    CHUMP 

ON  reaching  home  that  night,  Arabella  surprised  herself 
thinking,  in  the  midst  of  her  anguish :  "  Whatever  is  said 
of  us,  it  cannot  be  said  that  there  is  a  house  where  the  ser- 
vants have  been  better  cared  for."  And  this  reflection  con- 
tinued to  burn  with  an  astonishing  brilliancy  through  all 
the  revolutions  of  a  mind  contemplating  the  dread  of  a 
fallen  fortune,  the  fact  of  a  public  exposure,  and  what  was 
to  her  an  ambition  destroyed.  Adela  had  no  such  thoughts. 
"  I  have  been  walking  on  a  plank,"  she  gasped  from  time  to 
time,  as  she  gave  startled  glances  into  the  abyss  of  poverty, 
and  hurried  to  her  bedchamber  —  a  faint  whisper  of  self- 
condeinnation  in  her  ears  at  the  '  I '  being  foremost.  The 
sisters  were  too  proud  to  touch  upon  one  another's  misery 
in  complaints,  or  admit  it  to  be  common  by  holding  debate 
on  it.  They  had  not  once  let  their  eyes  meet  at  Besworth, 
as  the  Tinleys  wonderingly  noticed.  They  said  good  night 
to  their  papa,  who  was  well  enough  to  reply,  adding  per- 
emptorily, "Downstairs  at  half-past  eight," — an  intimation 
that  he  would  be  at  the  breakfast-table  and  read  prayers 
as  usual.  Inexperienced  in  nervous  disease,  they  were  now 
filled  with  the  idea  that  he  was  possibly  acting  —  a  notion 
that  had  never  been  kindled  in  them  before  ;  or,  otherwise, 
how  came  these  rapid,  almost  instantaneous,  recoveries  ? 

Cornelia  alone  sounded  near  the  keynote.     Since  the  night 


DEFEAT  AND   FLIGHT   OF  MBS.   CHUMP  269 

that  she  had  met  him  in  the  passage,  and  the  morning  when 
Mrs.  Chump  had  raised  the  hubbub  about  her  loss,  Corne- 
lia's thoughts  had  been  troubled  by  some  haunting  spectral 
relationship  with  money.  It  had  helped  to  make  her  reck- 
less in  granting  interviews  to  Purcell  Barrett.  "  If  we  are 
poor,  I  am  free ;  "  and  that  she  might  then  give  herself  to 
whomsoever  she  pleased,  was  her  logical  deduction.  The 
exposure  at  Besworth,  and  the  partial  confirmation  of  her 
suspicions,  were  not  without  their  secret  comfort  to  her. 
In  the  carriage,  coming  home,  Wilfrid  had  touched  her  hand 
by  chance,  and  pressed  it  with  good  heart.  She  went  to  the 
library,  imagining  that  if  he  wished  to  see  her  he  would 
appear,  and  by  exposing  his  own  weakness  learn  to  ex- 
cuse hers.  She  was  right  in  her  guess ;  Wilfrid  came.  He 
came  sauntering  into  the  room  with  "  Ah !  you  here  ? " 
Cornelia  consented  to  play  into  his  hypocrisy.  "Yes,  I 
generally  think  better  here,"  she  replied. 

"And  what  has  this  pretty  head  got  to  do  with  think- 
ing?" 

"  Not  much,  I  suppose,  my  lord,"  she  said,  affecting  nobly 
to  acknowledge  the  weakness  of  the  female  creature. 

Wilfrid  kissed  her  with  an  unaccustomed  fervour.  This 
delicate  mumming  was  to  his  taste.  It  was  yet  more  so  when 
she  spoke  playfully  to  him  of  his  going  soon  to  be  a  married 
man.  He  could  answer  to  that  in  a  smiling  negative,  playing 
round  the  question,  until  she  perceived  that  he  really  desired 
to  have  his  feeling  for  the  odd  dark  girl  who  had  recently 
shot  across  their  horizon  touched,  if  only  it  were  led  to  by  the 
muffled  ways  of  innuendo.  As  a  dog,  that  cannot  ask  you 
verbally  to  scratch  his  head,  but  wishes  it,  will  again  and 
again  thrust  his  muzzle  into  your  hand,  petitioning  mutely 
that  affection  may  divine  him,  so: — but  we  deal  with  a 
sentimentalist,  and  the  simile  is  too  gross  to  be  exact  For  no 
sooner  was  Wilfrid's  head  scratched,  than  the  operation  struck 
him  as  humiliating ;  in  other  words,  the  moment  he  felt  his 
sister's  fingers  in  the  ticklish  part,  he  flew  to  another  theme, 
then  returned,  and  so  backward  and  forward  —  mystifying 
her  not  slightly,  and  making  her  think,  "  Then  he  has  no 
heart."  She  by  no  means  intended  to  encourage  love  for 
Emilia,  but  she  hoped,  for  his  sake,  that  the  sentiment  he 
had  indulged  was  sincere.  By  and-by  he  said,  that  though 


270  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

he  had  no  particular  affection  for  Lady  Charlotte,  he  should 
probably  marry  her. 

"  Without  loving  her,  Wilfrid  ?  It  is  unfair  to  her ;  it 
is  unfair  to  yourself." 

Wilfrid  understood  perfectly  who  it  was  for  whom  she 
pleaded  thus  vehemently.  He  let  her  continue  :  and  when 
she  had  dwelt  on  the  horrors  of  marriages  without  love,  and 
the  supreme  duty  of  espousing  one  who  has  our  'heart's 
loyalty,'  he  said,  "You  may  be  right.  A  man  must  not 
play  with  a  girl.  He  must  consider  that  he  owes  a  duty  to 
one  who  is  more  dependent ; "  —  implying  that  a  woman's 
duty  was  distinct  and  different  in  such  a  case. 

Cornelia  could  not  rise  and  plead  for  her  sex.  Had  she 
pushed  forth  the  '  woman,'  she  must  have  stood  for  her. 

This  is  the  game  of  Fine  Shades  and  Nice  Feelings,  under 
whose  empire  you  see  this  family,  and  from  which  they  are 
to  emerge  considerably  shorn,  but  purified  —  examples  of 
one  present  passage  of  our  civilization. 

"At  least,  dear,  if"  (Cornelia  desperately  breathed  the 
name)  "  —  if  Emilia  were  forced  to  give  her  hand  .  .  .  lov- 
ing .  .  .  you  ...  we  should  be  right  in  pitying  her?" 

The  snare  was  almost  too  palpable.  Wilfrid  fell  into  it, 
from  the  simple  passion  that  the  name  inspired ;  and  now 
his  hand  tightened.  "  Poor  child ! "  he  moaned. 

She  praised  his  kind  heart :  "  You  cannot  be  unjust  and 
harsh,  I  know  that.  You  could  not  see  her  —  me  —  any  of  us 
miserable.  Women  feel,  dear.  Ah  !  I  need  not  tell  you  that. 
Their  tears  are  not  the  witnesses.  When  they  do  not  weep, 
but  the  hot  drops  stream  inwardly :  —  and,  oh !  Wilfrid,  let 
this  never  happen  to  me.  I  shall  not  disgrace  you,  because 
I  intend  to  see  you  happy  with  .  .  .  with  her,  whoever  she 
is ;  and  I  would  leave  you  happy.  But  I  should  not  survive 
it.  I  can  look  on  Death.  A  marriage  without  love  is  dis- 
honour." 

Sentiment  enjoys  its  splendid  moods.  Wilfrid  having  had 
the  figure  of  Ins  beloved  given  to  him  under  nuptial  bene- 
diction, cloaked,  even  as  he  wished  it  to  be,  could  afford 
now  to  commiserate  his  sister,  and  he  admired  her  at  the  same 
time.  "  I'll  take  care  you  are  not  made  a  sacrifice  of  when 
the  event  is  fixed,"  he  said  —  as  if  it  had  never  been  in  con- 
templation. 


DEFEAT   AND   FLIGHT  OF   MRS.   CHUMP  271 

"  Oh  !  I  have  not  known  happiness  for  years,  till  this 
hour,"  Cornelia  whispered  to  him  bashfully ;  and  set  him 
wondering  why  she  should  be  happy  when  she  had  nothing 
but  his  sanction  to  reject  a  man. 

On  the  other  hand,  her  problem  was  to  gain  lost  ground 
by  letting  him  know  that,  of  the  pair,  it  was  not  she  who 
would  marry  beneath  her  station.  She  tried  it  mentally  in 
various  ways.  In  the  end  she  thought  it  best  to  give  him 
this  positive  assurance.  "  No,"  he  rejoined,  "  a  woman  never 
should."  There  was  no  admission  of  equality  to  be  got  out 
of  him,  so  she  kissed  him.  Of  their  father's  health  a  few 
words  were  said —  of  Emilia  nothing  further.  She  saw  that 
Wilfrid's  mind  was  resolved  upon  some  part  to  play,  but 
jhrank  from  asking  his  confidence,  lest  facts  should  be  laid 
bare. 

At  the  breakfast-table  Mr.  Pole  was  a  little  late.  He  wore 
some  of  his  false  air  of  briskness  on  a  hazy  face,  and  read 
prayers — drawing  breath  between  each  sentence,  and  rubbing 
his  forehead ;  but  the  work  was  done  by  a  man  in  ordinary 
health,  if  you  chose  to  think  so,  as  Mrs.  Chump  did.  She 
made  favourable  remarks  on  his  appearance,  begging  the 
ladies  to  corroborate  her.  They  were  silent. 

"Now  take  a  chop,  Pole,  and  show  your  appetite,"  she 
said.  "'A  Chump-chop,  my  love?'  my  little  man  used  to 
invite  me  of  a  mornin' ;  and  that  was  the  onnly  joke  he  had, 
so  it's  worth  rememberin'." 

A  chop  was  placed  before  Mr.  Pole.  He  turned  it  in  his 
plate,  and  wonderingly  called  to  mind  that  he  had  once 
enjoyed  chops.  At  a  loss  to  account  for  the  distressing 
change,  he  exclaimed  to  himself,  "Chump!  I  wish  the 
woman  wouldn't  thrust  her  husband  between  one's  teeth. 
An  egg!" 

The  chop  was  displaced  for  an  egg,  which  he  tapped  until 
Mrs.  Chump  cried  out,  "Oh!  if  ye're  not  like  a  postman, 
Pole;  and  d'ye  think  ye've  got  a  letter  for  a  chick  inside 
there?  " 

This  allusion  scared  Mr.  Pole  from  the  egg.  He  quitted 
the  table,  muttering,  "Business!  business!"  and  went  to 
the  library. 

When  he  was  gone  Mrs.  Chump  gave  a  cry  to  know  where 
Braintop  was,  but,  forgetting  him  immediately,  turned  to 


272  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

the  ladies  and  ejaculated,  "Broth  'm.  It's  just  brothin'  he 
wants.  Broth,  I  say,  for  anny  man  that  won't  eat  his  chop 
or  his  egg.  And,  my  dears,  now,  what  do  ye  say  to  me  for 
bringing  him  home  to  ye?  I  expect  to  be  thanked,  I  do; 
and  then  we'll  broth  Pole  together,  till  he's  lusty  as  a 
prize-ox,  and  capers  like  a  monkey." 

Wretched  woman!  that  could  not  see  the  ruin  she  had 
inflicted  —  that  could  not  imagine  how  her  bitter  breath  cut 
against  those  sensitive  skins !  During  a  short  pause  little 
Mrs.  Lupin  trotted  to  the  door,  and  shot  through  it,  in  a 
paroxysm. 

Then  Wilfrid's  voice  was  heard.  He  leaned  against  a 
corner  of  the  window,  and  spoke  without  directly  looking 
at  Mrs.  Chump;  so  that  she  was  some  time  in  getting  to 
understand  the  preliminary,  "  Madam,  you  must  leave  this 
house."  .But  presently  her  chin  dropped;  and  after  feeble 
efforts  to  interpose  an  exclamation,  she  sat  quiet  —  over- 
come by  the  deliberate  gravity  of  his  manner,  and  motioning 
despairingly  with  her  head,  to  relieve  the  swarm  of  unborn 
figureless  ideas  suggested  by  his  passing  speech.  The  ladies 
were  ranged  like  tribunal  shapes.  It  could  not  be  said  of 
souls  so  afflicted  that  they  felt  pleasure  in  the  scene ;  but 
to  assist  in  the  administration  of  a  rigorous  justice  is  sweet 
to  them  that  are  smarting.  They  scarcely  approved  his 
naked  statement  of  things  when  he  came  to  Mrs.  Chump's 
particular  aspiration  in  the  household  —  viz.,  to  take  a  sta- 
tion and  the  dignity  of  their  name.  The  effect  he  produced 
satisfied  them  that  the  measure  was  correct.  Her  back  gave 
a  sharp  bend,  as  if  an  eternal  support  had  snapped.  "Oh! 
ye  hit  hard,"  she  moaned. 

"  I  tell  you  kindly  that  we  (who,  you  will  acknowledge, 
must  count  for  something  here)  do  not  sanction  any  change 
that  revolutionizes  our  domestic  relations,"  said  Wilfrid; 
while  Mrs.  Chump  heaved  and  rolled  on  the  swell  of  the  big 
words  like  an  overladen  boat.  "  You  have  only  to  under- 
stand so  much,  and  this  —  that  if  we  resist  it,  as  we  do,  you, 
by  continuing  to  contemplate  it,  are  provoking  a  contest 
which  will  probably  injure  neither  you  nor  me,  but  will  be 
death  to  him  in  his  present  condition." 

Mrs.  Chump  was  heard  to  mumble  that  she  alone  knew 
the  secret  of  restoring  him  to  health,  and  that  he  was 


DEFEAT  AND   FLIGHT  OF   MRS.   CHUMP  278 

rendered  peaky  and  puky  only  by  people  supposing 
him  so. 

"  An  astonishin'  thing !  "  she  burst  out.  "  If  I  kiss  'm 
and  say  'Poor  Pole! '  he's  poor  Pole  on  the  spot.  And,  if 
onnlyl " 

But  Wilfrid's  stern  voice  flowed  over  her.  "Listen, 
madam,  and  let  this  be  finished  between  us.  You  know 
well  that  when  a  man  has  children,  he  may  wish  to  call 
another  woman  wife  —  a  woman  not  their  mother;  but  the 
main  question  is,  will  his  children  consent  to  let  her  take 
that  place?  We  are  of  one  mind,  and  will  allow  no  one  — 
no  one  —  to  assume  that  position.  And  now,  there's  an 
end.  We'll  talk  like  friends.  I  have  only  spoken  in  that 
tone  that  you  might  clearly  comprehend  me  on  an  important 
point.  I  know  you  entertain  a  true  regard  for  my  father, 
and  it  is  that  belief  which  makes  me " 

"  Friends !  "  cried  Mrs.  Chump,  getting  courage  from  the 
savour  of  cajolery  in  these  words.  "Friends!  Oh,  ye  fox! 
ye  fox ! " 

And  now  commenced  a  curious  duett.  Wilfrid  merely 
wished  to  terminate  his  sentence;  Mrs.  Chump  wantonly 
sought  to  prevent  him.  Each  was  burdened  with  serious 
matter;  but  they  might  have  struck  hands  here,  had  not 
this  petty  accidental  opposition  interposed. 

"  Makes  me  feel  confident  ..."    Wilfrid  resumed. 

"  And  Pole's  promus,  Mr.  Wilfrud;  ye're  forgettin'  that." 

"  Confident,  ma'am  .  .  ." 

"He  was  the  firrst  to  be  soft." 

"I  say,  ma'am,  for  his  sake 


"An'  it's  for  his  sake.  And  weak  as  he  is  on  's  legs, 
poor  fella;  which  marr'ge  '11  cure,  bein'  a  certain  rem'dy." 

"Mrs.  Chump!  I  beg  you  to  listen." 

"Mr.  Wilfrud!  and  I  can  see  too,  and  it's  three  weeks 
and  ye  kissed  little  Belloni  in  the  passage,  outside  this  vary 
door,  and  out  in  the  garden." 

The  blow  was  entirely  unexpected,  and  took  Wilfrid's 
breath,  so  that  he  was  not  ready  for  his  turn  in  this  singu- 
lar piece  of  harmony. 

"  Ye  did !  "  Mrs.  Chump  rejoiced  to  behold  how  her  chance 
spark  kindled  flame  in  his  cheeks.  "  It's  pos'tuv  ye  did. 
And  ye're  the  best  blusher  of  the  two,  my  dear;  and  no 


274  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

shame  to  ye,  though  it  is  a  garl's  business.  That  little 
Belloni  takes  to  't  like  milk;  but  you " 

Wilfrid  strode  up  to  her,  saying  imperiously,  "  I  tell  you 
to  listen!" 

She  succumbed  at  once  to  a  show  of  physical  ascendency, 
murmuring,  "  It's  sure  he  was  seen  kissin'  of  her  twice,  and 
mayhap  more ;  and  hearty  smacks  of  the  lips,  too — likin'  it." 

The  ladies  rewarded  Wilfrid  for  his  service  to  their  cause 
by  absolutely  hearing  nothing  —  a  feat  women  can  be  capa- 
ble of. 

Wilfrid,  however,  was  angered  by  the  absurdity  of  the 
charge  and  the  scene,  and  also  by  the  profane  touch  on 
Emilia's  name. 

"  I  must  tell  you,  ma'am,  that  for  my  father's  sake  I  must 

desire  you  to  quit  this you  will  see  the  advisability  of 

quitting  this  house  for  a  time." 

"  Pole's  promus !  Pole's  promus !  "  Mrs.  Chump  wailed 
again. 

"  Will  you  give  me  your  assurance  now  that  you  will  go, 
to  be  our  guest  again  subsequently?  " 

"In  writin'  and  in  words,  Mr.  Wilfrud! " 

"Answer  me,  ma'am." 

"I  will,  Mr.  Wilfrud;  and  Mr.  Braintop's  a  witness, 
knowin'  the  nature  of  an  oath.  There  naver  was  a  more 
sacrud  promus.  Says  Pole,  'Martha ' ' 

Wilfrid  changed  his  tactics.  Sitting  down  by  her  side, 
he  said:  "I  am  sure  you  have  an  affection  for  my  father." 

"I'm  the  most  lovin'  woman,  my  dear!  If  it  wasn't  for 
my  vartue  I  don't  know  what  'd  become  o'  me.  Ye  could 
ask  Chump,  if  he  wasn't  in  his  grave,  poor  fella!  I'll  be 
cryin'  like  a  squeezed  orr'nge  presently.  What  with  Chump 
and  Pole,  two's  too  many  for  a  melanch'ly  woman." 

"You  have  an  affection  for  my  father  I  know,  ma'am. 
Now,  see!  he's  ill.  If  you  press  him  to  do  what  we  cer- 
tainly resist,  you  endanger  his  life." 

Mrs.  Chump  started  back  from  the  man  who  bewildered 
her  brain  without  stifling  her  sense  of  injustice.  She  knew 
that  there  was  another  way  of  putting  the  case,  whereby  she 
was  not  stuck  in  the  criminal  box ;  but  the  knowledge  groped 
about  blindly,  and  finding  herself  there,  Mrs.  Chump  lost 
all  idea  of  a  counter-accusation,  and  resorted  to  wriggling 


DEFEAT   AND   PLIGHT  OF  MRS.   CHUMP  275 

and  cajolery.  "Ah!  ye  look  sweeter  when  ye're  kissin'  us, 
Mr.  Wilfrud;  and  I  wonder  where  the  little  Belloni  has 
got  to!" 

"  Tell  me,  that  there  may  be  no  misunderstanding."  Wil- 
frid again  tried  to  fix  her. 

"  A  rosy  rosy  fresh  bit  of  a  mouth  she's  got !  and  pouts  ut  I " 

Wilfrid  took  her  hand.     "Answer  me." 

"'Deed,  and  I'm  modust,  Mr.  Wilfrud." 

"You  do  him  the  honour  to  be  very  fond  of  him.  I  am 
to  believe  that?  Then  you  must  consent  to  leave  us  at  the 
end  of  a  week.  You  abandon  any  idea  of  an  impossible 
ceremony,  and  of  us  you  make  friends  and  not  enemies." 

At  the  concluding  word,  Mrs.  Chump  was  no  longer  sus- 
tained by  her  excursive  fancy.  She  broke  down,  and  wrung 
her  hands,  crying,  "En'mies!  Pole's  children  my  en'mies! 
Oh,  Lord !  that  I  should  live  to  hear  ut !  and  Pole,  that  knew 
me  a  bride  first  blushin' !  " 

She  wailed  and  wept  so  that  the  ladies  exchanged  com- 
passionate looks,  and  Arabella  rose  to  press  her  hand  and 
diminish  her  distress.  Wilfrid  saw  that  his  work  would  be 
undone  in  a  moment,  and  waved  her  to  her  seat.  The  action 
was  perceived  by  Mrs.  Chump. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Wilf  nid !  my  dear !  and  a  soldier !  and  you  that 
was  my  favourut !  If  half  my  'Section  for  Pole  wasn't  the 
seein'  of  you  so  big  and  handsome !  And  all  my  ideas  to 
get  ye  marrud,  avery  one  so  snug  in  a  corner,  with  a  neat 
little  lawful  ring  on  your  fingers !  And  you  that  go  to  keep 
me  a  lone  woman,  frightened  of  the  darrk!  I'm  an  awful 
coward,  that's  the  truth.  And  ye  know  that  marr'ge  is  a 
holy  thing!  and  it's  such  a  beaut'ful  cer'mony!  Oh,  Mr. 
Wilfrud !  —  Lieuten't  y'  are !  and  I'd  have  bought  ye  a  cap- 
tain, and  made  the  hearts  o'  your  sisters  jump  with  bonnuts 
and  gowns  and  jools.  Oh,  Pole!  Pole!  why  did  you  keep 
me  so  short  o'  cash?  It's  been  the  roon  of  me!  What  did 
I  care  for  your  brooches  and  your  gifts?  I  wanted  the  good 
will  of  your  daughters,  sir  —  your  son,  Pole ! ' 

Mrs.  Chump  stopped  her  flow  of  tears.  " Dear  hearts! ' 
she  addressed  her  silent  judges,  in  mysterious  guttural 
tones,  "  is  it  becas  ye  think  there's  a  bit  of  a  fear  of  . 

The  ladies  repressed  a  violent  inclination  to  huddle  to- 
gether, like  cattle  from  the  blowing  East. 


276  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

"I  assure  ye,  'taint  poss'ble,"  pursued  Mrs.  Chump. 
"Why  do  I  'gree  to  marry  Pole?  Just  this,  now.  We  sit 
chirpin'  and  chatterin'  of  times  that's  gone,  and  live  twice 
over,  Pole  and  myself;  and  I'm  used  to  'm;  and  I  was  soft 
to  'm  when  he  was  a  merry  buck,  and  you  cradle  lumber  — 
in  ideas,  mind!  for  my  vartue  was  always  un'mpeach'ble. 
That's  just  the  reason.  So,  come,  and  let's  all  be  friends, 
with  money  in  our  pockuts;  ye' 11  find  me  as  much  of  a  garl 
as  anny  of  ye.  And,  there !  my  weak  time's  after  my  Porrt, 
my  dears.  So,  now  ye  know  when  I  can't  be  refusin'  a 
thing  to  ye.  Are  we  friends?  —  say!  are  we?" 

Even  if  the  ladies  had  been  disposed  to  pardon  her  vul- 
garity, they  could  not  by  any  effort  summon  a  charitable 
sentiment  toward  one  of  their  sex  who  degraded  it  by  a 
public  petition  for  a  husband.  This  was  not  to  be  excused; 
and,  moreover,  they  entertained  the  sentimentalist's  abhor- 
rence of  the  second  marriage  of  a  woman ;  regarding  the  act 
as  simply  execrable ;  being  treason  to  the  ideal  of  the  sex 
—  treason  to  Woman's  purity  —  treason  to  the  mysterious 
sentiment  which  places  Woman  so  high,  that  when  a  woman 
slips  there  is  no  help  for  it  but  she  must  be  smashed. 

Seeing  that  each  looked  as  implacable  as  the  other,  Mrs. 
Chump  called  plaintively,  "  Arr'bella!  " 

The  lady  spoke :  — 

"  We  are  willing  to  be  your  friends,  Mrs.  Chump,  and  we 
request  that  you  will  consider  us  in  that  light.  We  simply 
do  not  consent  to  give  you  a  name.  ..." 

"But,  we'll  do  without  the  name,  my  dear,"  interposed 
Mrs.  Chump.  "  Ye'll  call  me  plain  Martha,  which  is  almost 
mother,  and  not  a  bit  of  't.  There  —  Cornelia,  my  love! 
what  do  ye  say?  " 

"I  can  only  reiterate  my  sister's  words,  which  demand  no 
elucidation,"  replied  Cornelia. 

The  forlorn  woman  turned  her  lap  towards  the  youngest. 

"Ad'la!  ye  sweet  little  cajoler!  And  don't  use  great 
cartwheels  o'  words  that  leave  a  body  crushed." 

Adela  was  suffering  from  a  tendency  to  levity,  which  she 
knew  to  be  unbefitting  the  occasion,  and  likely  to  defeat  its 
significance.  She  said:  "I  am  sure,  Mrs.  Chump,  we  are 
very  much  attached  to  you  as  Mrs.  Chump ;  but  after  a  cer- 
tain period  of  life,  marriage  does  make  people  ridiculous, 


DEFEAT   AND  FLIGHT   OF  MRS.   CHUMP  277 

and,  as  much  for  your  sake  as  our  own,  we  would  advise 
you  to  discard  a  notion  that  cannot  benefit  anybody.  Be- 
lieve in  our  attachment;  and  we  shall  see  you  here  now 
and  then,  and  correspond  with  you  when  you  are  away. 
And  .  .  ." 

"Oh,  ye  puss!  such  an  eel  as  y'  are!  "  Mrs.  Chump  cried 
out.  "  What  are  ye  doin'  but  sugarin'  the  same  dose,  miss ! 
Be  qui't!  It's  a  traitor  that  makes  what's  nasty  taste 
agree'ble.  D'ye  think  my  stomach's  a  fool?  Ye  may 
wheedle  the  mouth,  but  not  the  stomach." 

At  this  offence  there  fell  a  dead  silence.  Wilfrid  gazed 
on  them  all  indifferently,  waiting  for  the  moment  to  strike 
a  final  blow. 

When  she  had  grasped  the  fact  that  Pity  did  not  sit  in 
the  assembly,  Mrs.  Chump  rose. 

"Oh!  if  I  haven't  been  sitting  among  three  owls  and  a 
raven,"  she  exclaimed.  Then  she  fussed  at  her  gown.  "I 
wish  ye  good  day,  young  ladus,  and  mayhap  ye'd  like  to  be 
interduced  to  No.  2  yourselves,  some  fine  mornin'?  Prov'- 
deuce  can  wait.  There's  a  patient  hen  on  the  eggs  of  all  of 
ye !  I  wouldn't  marry  Pole  now  —  not  if  he  was  to  fall  flat 
and  howl  for  me.  Mr.  Wilfrud,  I  wish  ye  good-bye.  Ye've 
done  your  work.  I'll  be  out  of  this  house  in  half-an-hour." 

This  was  not  quite  what  Wilfrid  had  meant  to  effect.  He 
proposed  to  her  that  she  should  come  to  the  yacht,  and  indeed 
leave  Brookfield  to  go  on  board.  But  Mrs.  Chump  was  in 
that  frame  of  mind  when,  shamefully  wounded  by  others,  we 
find  our  comfort  in  wilfully  wounding  ourselves.  "  No, "  she 
said  (betraying  a  meagre  mollification  at  every  offer),  "  I'll 
not  stop.  I  won't  go  to  the  yacht — unless  I  think  better  of  ut. 
But  I  won't  stop.  Ye've  hurrt  me,  and  I'll  say  good-bye.  I 
hope  ye'll  none  of  ye  be  widows.  It's  a  crool  thing.  And 
when  ye've  got  no  children  of  your  own,  and  feel  all  your 
inside  risin'  to  another  person's,  and  they  hate  ye — hate  ye ! 

Oh  !  Oh  ! There,  Mr.  Wilfrud,  ye  needn't  touch  me 

elbow.  Oh,  dear  !  look  at  me  in  the  glass !  and  my  hair ! 
Annybody  'd  swear  I'd  been  drinkin'.  I  won't  let  Pole  look 
at  me.  That  'd  cure  'm.  And  he  must  let  me  have  money, 
because  I  don't  care  for  'cumulations.  Not  now,  when  there's 
no  young — no  garls  and  a  precious  boy,  who'd  say,  when  I'm 
gone,  <  Bless  her ! '  Oh !  — « Poor  thing !  Bless '  Oh  1 


278  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

Augh  ! "  A  note  of  Sorrow's  own  was  fetched ;  and  the  next 
instant,  with  a  figure  of  dignity,  the  afflicted  woman  ob- 
served: "There's  seven  bottles  of  my  Porrt,  and  there's 
eleven  of  champagne,  and  some  comut  clar't ;  I  shall  write 
where  ut's  to  be  sent.  And,  if  you  please,  look  to  the 
packing;  for  bits  o'  glass  and  a  red  stain's  not  like  your 
precious  hope  when  you're  undoin'  a  hamper.  And  that's 
just  myself  now,  and  I'm  a  broken  woman  ;  but  naver  mind, 
nobody ! " 

A  very  formal  and  stiff  "  Good-bye,"  succeeding  a  wheezy 
lamentation,  concluded  the  speech.  Casting  a  look  at  the 
glass,  Mrs.  Chump  retired,  with  her  fingers  on  the  orna- 
mental piece  of  hair. 

The  door  having  closed  on  her,  Wilfrid  said  to  his 
sisters :  "  I  want  one  of  you  to  come  with  me  to  town  imme- 
diately. Decide  which  will  go." 

His  eyes  questioned  Cornelia.     Hers  were  dropped. 

"  I  have  work  to  do,"  pleaded  Adela. 

"  An  appointment  ?    You  will  break  it." 

"No,  dear,  not " 

"  Not  exactly  an  appointment.  Then  there's  nothing  to 
break.  Put  on  your  bonnet." 

Adela  slipped  from  the  room  in  a  spirit  of  miserable 
obedience. 

"I  could  not  possibly  leave  papa,"  said  Arabella,  and 
Wilfrid  nodded  his  head.  His  sisters  knew  quite  well  what 
was  his  business  in  town,  but  they  felt  that  they  were  at  his 
mercy,  and  dared  not  remonstrate.  Cornelia  ventured  to 
say,  "  I  think  she  should  not  come  back  to  us  till  papa  is  in 
a  better  state." 

"Perhaps  not,"  replied  Wilfrid,  careless  how  much  he 
betrayed  by  his  apprehension  of  the  person  indicated. 

The  two  returned  late  that  night,  and  were  met  by  Arabella 
at  the  gate. 

"Papa  has  been  —  don't  be  alarmed,"  she  began.  "He 
is  better  now.  But  when  he  heard  that  she  was  not  in  the 
house,  the  blood  left  his  hands  and  feet.  I  have  had  to  use 
a  falsehood.  I  said,  '  She  left  word  that  she  was  coming 
back  to-night  or  to-morrow.'  Then  he  became  simply  angry. 
Who  could  have  believed  that  the  sight  of  him  so  would  ever 
have  rejoiced  me  I  " 


DEFEAT  AND  FLIGHT   OF   MRS.  CHUMP  279 

Adela,  worn  with  fatigue,  sobbed,  "  Oh !     Oh ! " 

"  By  the  way,  Sir  Twickenham  called,  and  wished  to  see 
you"  said  Arabella  curiously. 

"  Oh  !  so  weary ! "  the  fair  girl  ejaculated,  half-dreaming 
that  she  saw  herself  as  she  threw  back  her  head  and  gazed 
at  stars  and  clouds.  "  We  met  Captain  Gambier  in  town." 
Here  she  pinched  Arabella's  arm. 

The  latter  said,  "  Where  ?  " 

"  In  a  miserable  street,  where  he  looked  like  a  peacock  in 
a  quagmire." 

Arabella  entreated  Wilfrid  to  be  careful  in  his  manage- 
ment of  their  father.  "  Pray,  do  not  thwart  him.  He  has 
been  anxious  to  know  where  you  have  gone.  He  —  he  thinks 
you  have  conducted  Mrs.  Chump,  and  will  bring  her  back. 
I  did  not  say  it  —  I  merely  let  him  think  so." 

She  added  presently,  "  He  has  spoken  of  money." 

"  Yes  ?  "  went  Adela,  in  a  low  breath. 

"  Cornelia  imagines  that  —  that  we  —  he  is  perhaps  in  — 
in  want  of  it.  Merchants  are,  sometimes." 

"Did  Sir  Twickenham  say  he  would  call  to-morrow?" 
asked  Adela. 

"  He  said  that  most  probably  he  would." 

Wilfrid  had  been  silent.  As  he  entered  the  house,  Mr. 
Pole's  bedroom-bell  rang,  and  word  came  that  he  was  to  go 
to  his  father.  As  soon  as  the  sisters  were  alone,  Adela 
groaned :  "  We  have  been  hunting  that  girl  all  day  in  vile 
neighbourhoods.  Wilfrid  has  not  spoken  more  than  a  dozen 
sentences.  I  have  had  to  dine  on  buns  and  hideous  soup. 
I  am  half -dead  with  the  smell  of  cabs.  Oh !  if  ever  I  am 
poor  it  will  kill  me.  That  damp  hay  and  close  musty  life 
are  too  intolerable !  Yes !  You  see  I  care  for  what  I  eat  I 
seem  to  be  growing  an  animal.  And  Wilfrid  is  going  to  drag 
me  over  the  same  course  to-morrow,  if  you  don't  prevent  him. 
I  would  not  mind,  only  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  I  should 
see  Sir  Twickenham." 

She  gave  a  reason  why,  which  appeared  to  Arabella  so 
cogent  that  she  said  at  once :  "  If  Cornelia  does  not  take  your 
place  I  will." 

The  kiss  of  thanks  given  by  Adela  was  accompanied  by  a 
request  for  tea.  Arabella  regretted  that  she  had  sent  the 
servants  to  bed. 


280  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

"  To  bed ! "  cried  her  sister.  "  But  they  are  the  masters, 
not  we  !  Really,  if  life  were  a  round  of  sensual  pleasure,  I 
think  our  servants  might  congratulate  themselves." 

Arabella  affected  to  show  that  they  had  their  troubles ;  but 
her  statement  made  it  clear  that  the  servants  of  Brookfield 
were  peculiarly  favoured  servants,  as  it  was  their  mistress's 
pride  to  make  them.  Eventually  Adela  consented  to  drink 
some  sparkling  light  wine;  and  being  thirsty  she  drank 
eagerly,  and  her  tongue  was  loosed,  insomuch  that  she  talked 
of  things  as  one  who  had  never  been  a  blessed  inhabitant  of 
the  kingdom  of  Fine  Shades.  She  spoke  of  'Cornelia's 
chances ; '  of  '  Wilfrid's  headstrong  infatuation  —  or  worse ; ' 
and  of  '  Papa's  position,'  remarking  that  she  could  both  laugh 
and  cry. 

Arabella,  glad  to  see  her  refreshed,  was  pained  by  her 
rampant  tone ;  and  when  Adela,  who  had  fallen  into  one  of 
her  reflective  '  long-shot '  moods,  chanced  to  say,  "  What  a 
number  of  different  beings  there  are  in  the  world ! "  her  reply 
was,  "  I  was  just  then  thinking  we  are  all  less  unlike  than 
we  suppose." 

"  Oh,  my  goodness  ! "  cried  Adela.     "  What !  am  /  at  all 

—  at  all  —  in  the  remotest  degree  —  like  that  creature  we 
have  got  rid  of  ?  " 

The  negative  was  not  decisively  enunciated  or  immediate ; 
that  is,  it  did  not  come  with  the  vehemence  and  volume  that 
could  alone  have  satisfied  Adela's  expectation. 

The  "  We  are  all  of  one  family  "  was  an  offensive  truism, 
of  which  Adela  might  justly  complain. 

That  night  the  ladies  received  their  orders  from  Wilfrid : 

—  they  were  to  express  no  alarm  before  their  father  as  to  the 
state  of  his  health,  or  to  treat  him  ostensibly  as  an  invalid ; 
they  were  to  marvel  publicly  at  Mrs.  Chump's  continued  ab- 
sence, and  a  letter  requesting  her  to  return  was  to  be  written. 
At  the  sign  of  an  expostulation,  Wilfrid  smote  them  down  by 
saying  that  the  old  man's  life  hung  on  a  thread,  and  it  was 
for  them  to  cut  it  or  not. 


THE  DEGRADATION  OF  BROOKFIELD 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

INDICATES    THE    DEGRADATION    OF    BBOOKFIELD,    TOGETHER 
WITH    CERTAIN    PROCEEDINGS    OF   THE    YACHT 

LADY  CHARLOTTE  was  too  late  for  Emilia,  when  she  went 
forth  to  her  to  speak  for  Wilfrid.  She  found  the  youth 
Braintop  resting  heavily  against  a  tree,  muttering  to  himself 
that  he  had  no  notion  where  he  was,  as  an  excuse  for  his 
stationary  posture,  while  the  person  he  presumed  he  should 
have  detained  was  being  borne  away.  Near  him  a  scrap  of 
paper  lay  on  the  ground,  struck  out  of  darkness  by  long  slips 
of  light  from  the  upper  windows.  Thinking  this  might  be 
something  purposely  dropped,  she  took  possession  of  it ;  but 
a  glance  subsequently  showed  her  that  the  writing  was  too 
fervid  for  a  female  hand.  "  Or  does  the  girl  write  in  that 
way  ?  "  she  thought.  She  soon  decided  that  it  was  Wilfrid 
who  had  undone  her  work  in  the  line  of  thirsty  love-speech. 
"  How  can  a  little  fool  read  them  and  not  believe  any  lie 
that  he  may  tell ! "  she  cried  to  herself.  She  chose  to  say 
contemptuously :  "  It's  like  a  child  proclaiming  he  is  hun- 
gry." That  it  was  couched  in  bad  taste  she  positively  con- 
ceived —  taking  the  paper  up  again  and  again  to  cojrect  her 
memory.  The  termination,  "  Your  lover,"  appeared  to  her, 
if  not  laughable,  revolting.  She  was  uncertain  in  her  senti- 
ments at  this  point. 

Was  it  amusing  ?  or  simply  execrable  ?  Some  charity  for 
the  unhappy  document  Lady  Charlotte  found  when  she  could 
say:  "I  suppose  this  is  the  general  run  of  the  kind  of 
thing."  Was  it?  she  reflected;  and  drank  at  the  words 
again.  "No,"  she  came  to  think;  "men  don't  commonly 
write  as  he  does,  whoever  wrote  this."  She  had  no  doubt 
that  it  was  Wilfrid.  By  fits  her  wrath  was  directed  against 
him.  "It's  villany,"  she  said.  But  more  and  more  fre- 
quently a  crouching  abject  longing  to  call  the  words  her  own 
—  to  have  them  poured  into  her  heart  and  brain  —  desire  for 
the  intoxication  of  the  naked  speech  of  love  usurped  her 
spirit  of  pride,  until  she  read  with  envious  tears,  half 
loathing  herself,  but  fascinated  and  subdued :  "  Mine !  my 
angel !  You  will  see  me  to-morrow.  —  YOUR  LOVER." 


282  EMILIA  IN  ENCPLVND 

Of  jealousy  she  felt  very  little  —  her  chief  thought  com- 
ing like  a  wave  over  her :  "  Here  is  a  man  that  can  love !  " 

She  was  a  woman  of  chaste  blood,  which  spoke  to  her  as 
shyly  as  a  girl's,  now  that  it  was  in  tumult :  so  indeed  that, 
pressing  her  heart,  she  thought  youth  to  have  come  back, 
and  feasted  on  the  exultation  we  have  when,  at  an  odd  hour, 
we  fancy  we  have  cheated  time.  The  sensation  of  youth 
and  strength  seemed  to  set  a  seal  of  lawfulness  and  natural- 
ness, hitherto  wanting,  on  her  feeling  for  Wilfrid.  "  I  can 
help  him,"  she  thought.  "  I  know  where  he  fails,  and  what 
he  can  do.  I  can  give  him  position,  and  be  worth  as  much 
as  any  woman  can  be  to  a  man."  Thus  she  justified  the 
direction  taken  by  the  new  force  in  her. 

Two  days  later  Wilfrid  received  a  letter  from  Lady  Char- 
lotte, saying  that  she,  with  a  chaperon,  had  started  to  join 
her  brother  at  the  yacht-station,  according  to  appointment. 
Amazed  and  utterly  discomfited,  he  looked  about  for  an 
escape ;  but  his  father,  whose  plea  of  sickness  had  kept  him 
from  pursuing  Emilia,  petulantly  insisted  that  he  should  go 
down  to  Lady  Charlotte.  Adela  was  ready  to  go.  There 
were  numbers  either  going  or  now  on  the  spot,  and  the  net 
was  around  him.  Cornelia  held  back,  declaring  that  her 
place  was  by  her  father's  side.  Fine  Shades  were  still  too 
dominant  at  Brookfield  for  anyone  to  tell  her  why  she 
stayed. 

With  anguish  so  deep  that  he  could  not  act  indifference, 
Wilfrid  went  on  his  miserable  expedition  —  first  setting  a 
watch  over  Mr.  Pericles,  the  which,  in  connection  with  the 
electric  telegraph,  was  to  enable  him  to  join  that  gentleman 
speedily,  whithersoever  he  might  journey.  He  was  not  one 
to  be  deceived  by  the  Greek's  mask  in  running  down  daily 
to  Brookfield.  A  manoeuvre  like  that  was  poor;  and  be- 
sides, he  had  seen  the  sallow  eyes  give  a  twinkle  more  than 
once. 

Now,  on  the  Besworth  night,  Georgiana  Ford  had  studied 
her  brother  Merthyr's  face  when  Emilia's  voice  called  for 
Wilfrid.  Her  heart  was  touched ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  some 
little  invidious  wonder  at  the  power  of  a  girl  to  throw  her 
attraction  upon  such  a  man,  she  thought,  as  she  hoped,  that 
probably  it  was  due  to  the  girl's  Italian  blood.  Merthyr  was 
not  unmlling  to  speak  of  her,  and  say  what  he  feared  and 


THE  DEGRADATION   OP   BROOKFIELD  283 

desired  for  Emilia's  sake ;  and  Georgiana  read,  by  this  mark 
of  confidence,  how  sincerely  she  was  loved  and  trusted  by 
him.  "One  never  can  have  more  than  half  of  a  man's 
heart,"  she  thought  —  adding,  "It's  our  duty  to  deserve 
that,  nevertheless." 

She  was  mystified.  Say  that  Merthyr  loved  a  girl,  whom 
he  certainly  distinguished  with  some  visible  affection,  what 
sort  of  man  must  he  be  that  was  preferred  to  Merthyr? 
And  this  set  Georgiana  at  work  thinking  of  Wilfrid.  "  He 
has  at  times  the  air  of  a  student.  He  is  one  who  trusts  his 
own  light  too  exclusively.  Is  he  godless  ?  "  She  concluded : 
"He  is  a  soldier,  and  an  officer  with  brains  —  a  good  class." 
Rare  also.  Altogether,  though  Emilia  did  not  elevate  her- 
self in  this  lady's  mind  by  choosing  Wilfrid  when  she  might 
have  had  Merthyr,  the  rivalry  of  the  two  men  helped  to 
dignify  the  one  of  whom  she  thought  least.  Might  she  have 
had  Merthyr  ?  Georgiana  would  not  believe  it  —  that  is  to 
say,  she  shut  the  doors  and  shot  the  bolts,  but  the  knocking 
outside  went  on. 

Her  brother  had  told  her  the  whole  circumstances  of  Emi- 
lia's life  and  position.  When  he  said,  "  Do  what  you  can 
for  her,"  she  knew  that  it  was  not  the  common  empty  phrase. 
Young  as  she  was,  simple  in  habits,  clear  in  mind,  open  in 
all  practices  of  daily  life,  she  was  no  sooner  brought  into  an 
active  course  than  astuteness  and  impetuosity  combined  won- 
derfully in  her.  She  did  not  tell  Merthyr  that  she  had  done 
anything  to  discover  Emilia,  and  only  betrayed  that  she  was 
moving  at  all  in  a  little  conversation  they  had  about  a  meet- 
ing at  the  house  of  his  friend  Marini,  an  Italian  exile. 

"  Possibly  Belloni  goes  there,"  said  Merthyr.  "  I  wonder 
whether  Marini  knows  anything  of  him.  They  have  a  meet- 
ing every  other  night." 

Georgiana  replied :  "  He  went  there  and  took  his  daughter 
the  night  after  we  were  at  Besworth.  He  took  her  to  be 
sworn  in." 

"  Still  that  old  folly  of  Marini's ! "  cried  Merthyr,  almost 
wrathfully.  He  had  some  of  the  English  objection  to  the 
mixing-up  of  women  in  political  matters. 

Georgiana  instantly  addressed  herself  to  it:  "He  thinks 
that  the  country  must  be  saved  by  its  women  as  well  as  its 
men ;  and  if  they  have  not  brains  and  steadfast  devotion,  he 


284  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

concludes  that  the  country  will  not  be  saved.  But  he  gives 
them  their  share  of  the  work;  and,  dearest,  has  he  had 
reason  to  repent  it  ?  " 

"  No,"  Merthyr  was  forced  to  admit  —  taking  shelter  in  his 
antipathy  to  the  administration  of  an  oath  to  women.  "  And 
consider  that  this  is  a  girl ! " 

"  The  oaths  of  girls  are  sometimes  more  binding  on  them 
than  the  oaths  of  women." 

"  True,  it  affects  their  imaginations  vividly;  but  it  seems 
childish.  Does  she  have  to  kiss  a  sword  and  a  book  ?  " 

Merthyr  made  a  gesture  like  a  shrug,  with  a  desponding 
grimace. 

"  You  know,"  answered  Georgiana,  smiling,  "  that  I  was 
excused  any  formula,  by  special  exemption.  I  have  no  idea 
of  what  is  done.  Water,  salt,  white  thorns,  and  other 
Carbonaro  mysteries  may  be  in  use  or  not :  I  think  no  worse 
of  the  cause,  whatever  is  done." 

"  I  love  the  cause,"  said  Merthyr.  "  I  dislike  this  sort  of 
conspiratorial  masque  Marini  and  his  Chief  indulge  in.  I 
believe  it  sustains  them,  and  there's  its  only  use." 

"  I,"  said  Georgiana,  "  love  the  cause  only  from  association 
with  it ;  but  in  my  opinion  Marini  is  right.  He  deals  with 
young  and  fervent  minds,  that  require  a  ceremony  to  keep 
them  fast  —  yes,  dear,  and  women  more  than  others  do. 
After  that,  they  cease  to  have  to  rely  upon  themselves  —  a 
reliance  their  good  instinct  teaches  them  is  frail.  There, 
now ;  have  I  put  my  sex  low  enough  ?  " 

She  slid  her  head  against  her  brother's  shoulder.  If  he 
had  ever  met  a  man  worthy  of  her,  Merthyr  would  have 
sighed  to  feel  that  all  her  precious  love  was  his  own. 

"Is  there  any  likelihood  that  Belloni  will  be  there  to- 
night?" he  asked. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  He  has  not  been  there  since.  He 
went  for  that  purpose." 

"Perhaps  Marini  is  right,  after  all,"  said  Merthyr,  smiling. 

Georgiana  knew  what  he  meant,  and  looked  at  him  fondly. 

"  But  I  have  never  bound  you  to  an  oath,"  he  resumed,  in 
the  same  tone. 

"  I  dare  say  you  consider  me  a  little  different  from  most," 
said  Georgiana.  She  had  as  small  reserve  with  her  brother 
as  vanity,  and  could  even  tell  him  what  she  thought  of  her 


THE  DEGRADATION  OP   BROOKFIELD  285 

own  worth  without  depreciating  it  after  the  fashion  of 
chartered  hypocrites. 

Mr.  Powys  wrote  to  Marini  to  procure  him  an  interview 
with  Belloni  as  early  as  possible,  and  then  he  and  Georgiana 
went  down  to  Lady  Charlotte. 

Letters  from  Adela  kept  the  Brookfield  public  informed  of 
the  doings  on  board  the  yacht.  Before  leaving  home,  Wil- 
frid with  Arabella's  concurrence  certainly  —  at  her  instiga- 
tion, as  he  thought  —  had  led  his  father  to  imagine,  on 
tolerably  good  grounds,  that  Mrs.  Chump  had  quitted  Brook- 
field  to  make  purchases  for  her  excursion  on  lively  waters, 
and  was  then  awaiting  him  at  the  appointed  station.  One 
of  the  old  man's  intermittent  nervous  fits  had  frightened 
them  into  the  quasi-fabrication  of  this  little  innocent  tale. 
The  doctor's  words  were  that  Mr.  Pole  was  to  be  crossed  in 
nothing  —  "  Not  even  if  it  should  appear  to  be  of  imminent 
necessity  that  I  should  see  him,  and  he  refuses."  The  man 
of  science  stated  that  the  malady  originated  in  some  long- 
continued  pressure  of  secret  apprehension.  Both  Wilfrid 
and  Arabella  conceived  that  persuasion  alone  was  wanted  to 
send  Mrs.  Chump  flying  to  the  yacht;  so  they  had  less 
compunction  in  saying,  "  She  is  there." 

And  here  began  a  terrible  trial  for  the  children  of  Fine 
Shades.  To  save  a  father  they  had  to  lie  grievously  —  to  con- 
tinue the  lie  from  day  to  day  —  to  turn  it  from  the  lie  exten- 
sive and  inappreciable  to  the  lie  minute  and  absolute.  Then, 
to  get  a  particle  of  truth  out  of  this  monstrous  lie,  they  had 
to  petition  in  utter  humiliation  the  woman  they  had  scorned, 
that  she  would  return  among  them  and  consider  their  house 
her  own.  No  answer  came  from  Mrs.  Chump ;  and  as  each 
day  passed,  the  querulous  invalid,  still  painfully  acting  the 
man  in  health,  had  to  be  fed  with  fresh  lies ;  until  at  last, 
writing  of  one  of  the  scenes  in  Brookfield,  Arabella  put  down 
the  word  in  all  its  unblessed  aboriginal  bluntness,  and  did  not 
ask  herself  whether  she  shrank  from  it.  "  Lies ! "  she  wrote. 
"What  has  happened  to  Bella?"  thought  Adela,  in  pure 
wonder.  Salt-air  and  dazzling  society  kept  all  idea  of  pen- 
ance from  this  vivacious  young  person.  It  was  queer  that 
Sir  Twickenham  should  be  at  the  seaside,  instead  of  at  Brook- 
field,  wooing ;  but  a  man's  physical  condition  should  be  an 
excuse  for  any  intermission  of  attentions.  "  Now  that  I  know 


286  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

him  better,"  wrote  Adela,  "  I  think  him  the  pink  of  chivalry; 
and  of  this  I  am  sure  I  can  convince  you,  Bella,  C.  will  be 
blessed  indeed ;  for  a  delicate  nature  in  a  man  of  the  world 
is  a  treasure.  He  has  a  beautiful  little  vessel  of  his  own 
sailing  beside  us." 

Arabella  was  critic  enough  to  smile  at  this  last.  On  the 
whole  she  was  passably  content  for  the  moment,  in  a  severe 
fashion,  save  to  feel  herself  the  dreadful  lying  engine  and 
fruitlessly  abject  person  that  she  had  become. 

We  imagine  that  when  souls  have  had  a  fall,  they  imme- 
diately look  up  and  contrast  their  present  with  their  pre- 
ceding position.  This  does  not  occur.  The  lower  their  fall, 
the  less,  generally,  their  despair,  for  despair  is  a  business  of 
the  Will,  and  when  they  come  heavily  upon  their  humanity, 
they  get  something  of  the  practical  seriousness  of  nature. 
If  they  fall  very  low,  the  shock  and  the  sense  that  they  are 
still  on  their  feet  make  them  singularly  earnest  to  set  about 
the  plain  plan  of  existence  —  getting  air  for  their  lungs  and 
elbow-room.  Contrast,  that  mother  of  melancholy,  comes 
when  they  are  some  way  advanced  upon  the  upward  scale. 
The  Poles  did  not  look  up  to  their  lost  height,  but  merely 
exerted  their  faculties  to  go  forward;  and  great  as  their 
ambition  had  been  in  them,  now  that  it  was  suddenly  blown 
to  pieces,  they  did  not  sit  and  weep,  but  strove  in  a  stunned 
way  to  work  ahead.  The  truth  is,  that  we  rarely  indulge 
in  melancholy  until  we  can  take  it  as  a  luxury :  little  people 
never  do,  and  they,  when  we  have  not  put  them  on  their 
guard,  are  humankind  naked. 

The  yachting  excursions  were  depicted  vividly  by  Adela, 
and  were  addressed  as  a  sort  of  reproach  to  the  lugubrious 
letters  of  her  sister.  She  said  pointedly  once :  "  Really,  if 
we  are  to  be  miserable,  I  turn  Catholic  and  go  into  a  con- 
vent." The  strange  thing  was  that  Arabella  imagined  her 
letters  to  be  rather  of  a  cheerful  character.  She  related 
the  daily  events  at  Brookfield :  —  the  change  in  her  father's 
soups,  and  his  remarks  on  them,  and  which  he  preferred ; 
his  fight  with  his  medicine,  and  declaration  that  he  was  as 
sound  as  any  man  on  shore;  the  health  of  the  servants; 
Mr.  Marter  the  curate's  call  with  a  Gregorian  chant ;  doubts 
of  his  orthodoxy;  Cornelia's  lonely  walks  and  singular 
appetite;  the  bills,  and  so  forth  —  ending,  "  What  is  to  be 
said  further  of  her?" 


THE  DEGRADATION  OF  BROOKFIELD  287 

In  return,  Adela's  delight  was  to  date  each  day  from  a 
different  port,  to  which,  catching  the  wind,  the  party  had 
sailed,  and  there  slept.  The  ladies  were  under  the  protect- 
ing wing  of  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Bayruffle,  a  smooth  woman  of  the 
world.  "  You  think  she  must  have  sinned  in  her  time,  but 
are  certain  it  will  never  be  known,"  wrote  Adela.  "  I  do 
confess,  kind  as  she  is,  she  does  me  much  harm ;  for  when 
she  is  near  me  I  begin  to  think  that  Society  is  everything. 
Her  tact  is  prodigious;  it  is  never  seen  —  only  felt.  I 
cannot  describe  her  influence;  yet  it  leads  to  nothing. 
I  cannot  absolutely  respect  her ;  but  I  know  I  shall  miss 
her  acutely  when  we  part.  What  charm  does  she  possess  ? 
I  call  her  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Heathen  —  Captain  G.,  the  Hon. 
Mrs.  Balm.  I  know  you  hate  nicknames.  Be  merciful  to 
people  yachting.  What  are  we  to  do  ?  I  would  look 
through  a  telescope  all  day  and  calculate  the  number  of 
gulls  and  gannets  we  see ;  but  I  am  not  so  old  as  Sir  T., 
and  that  occupation  could  not  absorb  me.  I  begin  to  under- 
stand Lady  Charlotte  and  her  liking  for  Mr.  Powys  better. 
He  is  ready  to  play  or  be  serious,  as  you  please ;  but  in 
either  case  — '  Merthyr  is  never  a  buffoon  nor  a  parson '  — 
Lady  C.  remarked  this  morning ;  and  that  describes  him,  if 
it  were  not  for  the  detestable  fling  at  the  clergy,  which  she 
never  misses.  It  seems  in  her  blood  to  think  that  all  priests 
are  hypocrites.  What  a  little  boat  to  be  in  on  a  stormy 
sea,  Bella!  She  appears  to  have  no  concern  about  it. 
Whether  she  adores  Wilfrid  or  not  I  do  not  pretend  to 
guess.  She  snubs  him — a  thing  he  would  bear  from  nobody 
but  her.  I  do  believe  he  feels  flattered  by  it.  He  is  chiefly 
attentive  to  Miss  Ford,  whom  I  like  and  do  not  like,  and 
like  and  do  not  like — but  do  like.  She  is  utterly  cold, 
and  has  not  an  affection  on  earth.  Sir  T.  —  I  have  not  a 
dictionary  —  calls  her  a  fair  clictic,  I  think.  (Let  even 
Cornelia  read  hard,  or  woe  to  her  in  their  hours  of  privacy ! 
—  his  vocabulary  grows  distressingly  rich  the  more  you 
know  him.  I  am  not  uneducated,  but  he  introduces  me  to 
words  that  seem  monsters;  I  must  pretend  to  know  them 
intimately.)  Well,  whether  a  clictic  or  not  —  and  pray, 
burn  this  letter,  lest  I  should  not  have  the  word  correct  — 
she  has  the  air  of  a  pale  young  princess  above  any  creature 
I  hava  seen  in  the  world.  I  know  it  has  struck  Wilfrid 


288  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

also ;  my  darling  and  I  are  ever  twins  in  sentiment.  He 
converses  with  Miss  Ford  a  great  deal.  Lady  C.  is  peculiarly 
civil  to  Captain  G.  We  scud  along,  and  are  becalmed. 
'  Having  no  will  of  our  own,  we  have  no  knowledge  of  con- 
trary winds,'  as  Mr.  Powys  says.  — The  word  is  'eclictic,'  I 
find.  I  ventured  on  it,  and  it  was  repeated;  and  I  heard 
that  I  had  missed  a  syllable.  Ask  C.  to  look  it  out  —  I 
mean,  to  tell  me  the  meaning  on  a  little  slip  of  paper  in 
your  next.  I  would  buy  a  pocket-dictionary  at  one  of  the 
ports,  but  you  are  never  alone.  Esthetic,'  we  know.  Mr. 
Barrett  used  to  be  of  service  for  this  sort  of  thing.  I  admit 
I  am  inferior  to  Mrs.  Bayruffle,  who,  if  men  talk  difficult 
words  in  her  presence,  holds  her  chin  above  the  conversation, 
and  seems  to  shame  them.  I  love  to  learn  —  I  love  the 
humility  of  learning.  And  there  is  something  divine  in  the 
idea  of  a  teacher.  I  listen  to  Sir  T.  on  Parliament  and 
parties,  and  chide  myself  if  my  interest  flags.  His  algebra- 
puzzles,  or  Euclid-puzzles  in  figures  —  sometimes  about  sheep- 
boys  and  sheep,  and  hurdles  or  geese,  oxen  or  anything  — 
are  delicious :  he  quite  masters  the  conversation  with  them. 
I  disagree  with  Mrs.  Bayruffle  when  she  complains  that  they 
are  posts  in  the  way  of  speech.  There  is  a  use  in  all  men ; 
and  though  she  is  an  acknowledged  tactician  materially,  she 
cannot  see  she  has  in  Sir  T.  a  quality  necessary  to  intel- 
lectual conversation,  if  she  knew  how  to  employ  it." 

Remarks  of  this  nature  read  very  oddly  to  Arabella,  inso- 
much that  she  would  question  herself  at  times,  in  forced 
seriousness,  whether  she  had  dreamed  that  an  evil  had  be- 
fallen Brookfield,  or  whether  Adela  were  forgetting  that  it 
had,  in  a  dream.  One  day  she  enclosed  a  letter  from  her 
father  to  Mrs.  Chump.  Adela  did  not  forge  a  reply;  but 
she  had  the  audacity  to  give  the  words  of  a  message  from 
the  woman  (in  which  Mrs.  Chump  was  supposed  to  say  that 
she  could  not  write  while  she  was  being  tossed  about). 
"  We  must  carry  it  on,"  Adela  told  her  sister,  with  horrible 
bluntness.  The  message  savoured  strongly  of  Mrs.  Chump. 
It  was  wickedly  clever.  Arabella  resolved  to  put  it  by; 
but  -Corning  after  morning  she  saw  her  father's  anxiety  for 
the  «ply  mounting  to  a  pitch  of  fever.  She  consulted  with 
Cornelia,  who  said,  "  No ;  never  do  such  a  thing ! "  and  sub- 
sequently, with  a  fainter  firmness,  repeated  the  negative 


THE  DEGRADATION   OP  BROOKFIELD  289 

monosyllable.  Arabella,  in  her  wretchedness,  became  en- 
dued with  remorseless  discernment.  "It  means  that  Cor- 
nelia would  never  do  it  herself,"  she  thought ;  and,  comforted 
haply  by  reflecting  that  for  their  common  good  she  could  do 
it,  she  did  it.  She  repeated  an  Irish  message.  Her  father 
calmed  immediately,  making  her  speak  it  over  twice.  He 
smiled,  and  blinked  his  bird's-eyes  pleasurably :  "  Ah !  that's 
Martha,"  he  said,  and  fell  into  a  state  of  comparative  repose. 
For  some  hours  a  sensation  of  bubbling  hot-water  remained 
about  the  ears  of  Arabella.  Happily  Mrs.  Chump  in  person 
did  not  write. 

A  correspondence  now  commenced  between  the  fictitious 
Mrs.  Chump  on  sea  and  Mr.  Pole,  dyspeptic,  in  his  arm- 
chair. Arabella  took  the  doctor  aside  to  ask  him,  if  in  a 
hypothetical  instance,  it  would  really  be  dangerous  to 
thwart  or  irritate  her  father.  She  asked  the  curate  if  he 
deemed  it  wicked  to  speak  falsely  to  an  invalid  for  the 
invalid's  benefit.  The  spiritual  and  bodily  doctors  agreed 
that  occasion  altered  and  necessity  justified  certain  acts. 
So  far  there  was  comfort.  But  the  task  of  assisting  in  this 
correspondence,  and  yet  more,  the  contemplation  of  Adela's 
growing  delight  in  it  (she  would  now  use  Irish  words,  vul- 
gar words,  words  expressive  of  physical  facts;  airing  her 
natural  wit  in  Irish  as  if  she  had  found  a  new  weapon), 
became  a  bitter  strain  on  Arabella's  mind,  and  she  was  com- 
pelled to  make  Cornelia  take  her  share  of  the  burden.  "  But 
I  cannot  conceal  — I  cannot  feign,"  said  Cornelia.  Arabella 
looked  at  her,  whom  she  knew  to  be  feigning,  thinking, 
"  Must  I  lose  my  high  esteem  of  both  my  sisters  ?  "  Action 
alone  saved  her  from  denuding  herself  of  this  garment 

"  That  night !  "  was  now  the  allusion  to  the  scene  at  Bes- 
worth.  It  stood  for  all  the  misery  they  suffered ;  nor  could 
they  see  that  they  had  since  made  any  of  their  own. 

A  letter  with  the  Dover  postmark  brought  exciting  news. 

A  debate  had  been  held  on  board  the  yacht.  Wilfrid  and 
Lady  Charlotte  gave  their  votes  for  the  Devon  coast.  All 
were  ready  to  be  off,  when  Miss  Ford  received  a  telegram 
from  shore,  and  said,  "  No ;  it  must  be  Dover."  Now,  Mrs. 
Chump's  villa  was  on  the  Devon  coast.  Lady  Charlotte  had 
talked  to  Wilfrid  about  her,  and  in  the  simplest  language  had 
said  that  she  must  be  got  on  board.  This  was  the  reason  of 


290  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

their  deciding  for  Devon.  But  Georgiana  stood  for  Dover ; 
thither  Merthyr  said  that  he  must  go,  whether  he  sailed  or 
went  on  land.  By  a  simultaneous  reading  of  Georgiana's  eyes, 
both  Wilfrid  and  Lady  Charlotte  saw  what  was  meant  by  her 
decision.  Wilfrid  at  once  affected  to  give  way,  half-pro- 
testingly.  "  And  this,"  wrote  Adela,  "  taught  me  that  he 
was  well  pleased  to  abandon  the  West  for  the  East.  Lady  C. 
favoured  him  with  a  look  such  as  I  could  not  have  believed  I 
should  ever  behold  off  the  stage.  There  was  a  perfect  dagger 
in  her  eyes.  She  fought  against  Dover :  do  men  feel  such 
compliments  as  these  ?  They  are  the  only  true  ones !  She 
called  the  captain  to  witness  that  the  wind  was  not  for  Dover  : 
she  called  the  mate :  she  was  really  eloquent  —  yes,  and  hand- 
some. I  think  Wilfrid  thought  so ;  or  the  reason  for  the 
opposition  to  Dover  impressed  my  brother.  I  like  him  to  be 
made  to  look  foolish,  for  then  he  retrieves  his  character  so 
dashingly  —  always.  His  face  was  red,  and  he  seemed  unde- 
cided—  was  —  until  one  taunt  (it  must  have  been  a  taunt), 
roused  him  up.  They  exchanged  about  six  sentences — these 
two.  I  cannot  remember  them,  unhappily ;  but  for  neatness 
and  irony,  never  was  anything  so  delicious  heard.  They  came 
sharp  as  fencing-thrusts ;  and  you  could  really  believe,  if  you 
liked,  that  they  were  merely  stating  grounds  for  diverse 
opinions.  Of  course  we  sailed  East,  reaching  Dover  at  ten ; 
and  the  story  is  this  —  I  knew  Emilia  was  in  it :  —  Tracy 
Eunningbrook  had  been  stationed  at  Dover  ten  days  by  Miss 
Ford,  to  intercept  Emilia's  father,  if  he  should  be  found 
taking  her  to  the  Continent  by  that  route.  He  waited,  and 
met  them  at  last  on  the  Esplanade.  He  telegraphed  to  Miss 
Ford  and  a  Signor  Marini  (we  were  wrong  in  not  adding 
illustrious  exiles  to  our  list),  while  he  invited  them  to  dine, 
and  detained  them  till  the  steamboat  was  starting;  and 
Signor  Marini  came  down  by  rail  in  a  great  hurry,  and  would 
not  let  Emilia  be  taken  away.  There  was  a  quarrel ;  but, 
by  some  mysterious  power  that  he  possesses,  this  Signor 
Marini  actually  prevented  the  father  from  taking  his  child. 
Mysterious  ?  But  is  anything  more  mysterious  than  Emilia's 
influence?  I  cannot  forget  what  she  was  ere  we  trained 
her ;  and  when  I  think  that  we  seem  to  be  all  —  all  who 
come  near  her  —  connected  with  her  fortunes  !  Explain  it 
if  you  can.  I  know  it  is  not  her  singing ;  I  know  it  is  not 


THE  DEGRADATION   OF  BROOKFIELD  291 

her  looks.  Captivations  she  does  not  deal  in.  Is  it  the 
magic  of  indifference  ?  No ;  for  then  some  one  whom  you 
know  and  who  longs  to  kiss  her  bella  Bella  now  would  be 
dangerous !  She  is  very  little  so,  believe  me ! 

"Emilia  is  (am  I  chronicling  a  princess?) — she  is  in 
London  with  Signor  Marini ;  and  Wilfrid  has  not  seen  her. 
Lady  Charlotte  managed  to  get  the  first  boat  full,  and 
pushed  off  as  he  was  about  to  descend.  I  pitied  his  poor 
trembling  hand !  I  went  on  shore  in  the  second  boat  with 
him.  We  did  not  find  the  others  for  an  hour,  when  we 
heard  that  Emilia  had  gone  with  Signor  M.  The  next  day, 
whom  should  we  see  but  Mr.  Pericles.  He  (I  have  never 
seen  him  so  civil)  —  he  shook  Wilfrid  by  the  hand  almost 
like  an  Englishman;  and  Wilfrid  too,  though  he  detests 
him,  was  civil  to  him,  and  even  laughed  when  he  said: 
'  Here  it  is  dull ;  ze  Continent  for  a  week.  I  follow  Philo- 
mela—  ze  nightingales.'  I  was  just  going  to  say,  'Well, 
then,  you  are  running  away  from  one.'  Wilfrid  pressed  my 
fingers,  and  taught  me  to  be  still ;  and  I  did  not  know  why 
till  I  reflected.  Poor  Mr.  Pericles,  seeing  him  friendly  for 
the  first  time,  rubbed  his  hands ;  and  it  was  most  painful 
to  me  to  see  him  shake  hands  with  Wilfrid  again  and  again, 
till  he  was  on  board  the  vessel  chuckling.  Wilfrid  suddenly 
laughed  with  all  his  might  —  a  cruel  laugh ;  and  Mr.  Peri- 
cles tried  to  be  as  loud,  but  commenced  coughing  and  tap- 
ping his  chest,  to  explain  that  his  intention  was  good. 
Bella !  the  passion  of  love  must  be  judged  by  the  person 
who  inspires  it ;  and  I  cannot  even  go  so  far  as  to  feel  pity 
for  Wilfrid  if  he  has  stooped  to  the  humiliation  of  —  there 
is  another  way  of  regarding  it,  I  know.  Let  him  be  sin- 
cere and  noble;  but  not  his  own  victim.  He  scarcely  holds 
up  his  head.  We  are  now  for  Devon.  Tracy  is  with  us ; 
and  we  never  did  a  wiser  thing  than  when  we  decided  to 
patronize  poets.  If  kept  in  order  —  under  —  they  are  the 
aristocracy  of  light  conversationalists.  Adieu!  We  speed 
for  beautiful  Devon.  '  Me  love  to  Pole,  and  I'm  just,'  etc. 
That  will  do  this  time ;  next,  she  will  speak  herself.  That 
I  should  wish  it !  But  the  world  is  full  of  change,  as  I 
begin  to  learn.  What  will  ensue? " 


292  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

CHAPTER  XXXV 
MBS.  CHUMP'S  EPISTLE 

WHEN  Mrs.  Chump  had  turned  her  back  on  Brookfield, 
the  feelings  of  the  outcast  woman  were  too  deep  for  much  dis- 
tinctly acrimonious  sensation  toward  the  ladies ;  but  their 
letters  soon  lifted  and  revived  her,  until,  being  in  a  proper 
condition  of  prickly  wrath,  she  sat  down  to  compose  a  reply 
that  should  bury  them  under  a  mountain  of  shame.  The 
point,  however,  was  to  transfer  this  mountain  from  her 
bosom,  which  laboured  heavily  beneath  it,  to  their  heads. 
Nothing  could  appear  simpler.  Here  is  the  mountain ;  the 
heads  are  yonder.  Accordingly,  she  prepared  to  commence. 
In  a  moment  the  difficulty  yawned  monstrous.  For  the 
mountain  she  felt  was  not  a  mountain  of  shame ;  yet  that 
was  the  character  of  mountain  she  wished  to  cast.  If  shs 
crushed  them,  her  reputation  as  a  forgiving  soul  might 
suffer :  she  could  not  pardon  without  seeing  them  abased. 
Thus  shaken  at  starting,  she  found  herself  writing :  "  I 
know  that  your  father  has  been  hearing  tales  told  of  me, 
or  he  would  have  written,  and  he  has  not ;  so  you  shall 
never  see  me,  not  if  you  cried  to  me  from  the  next  world  — 
the  hot  part." 

Perusing  this,  it  was  too  tremendous.  "  Oh,  that's  awful ! " 
she  said,  getting  her  body  a  little  away  from  the  manuscript. 
"  Ye  couldn't  curse  much  louder." 

A  fresh  trial  found  her  again  rounding  the  fact  that  Mr. 
Pole  had  not  written  to  her,  and  again  flying  into  consequent 
angers.  She  had  some  dim  conception  of  the  sculpture  of 
an  offended  Goddess.  "  I  look  so,"  she  said  before  the  glass : 
"  I'm  above  ye,  and  ye  can't  hurt  me,  and  don't  come  anigh 
me :  but  here's  a  cheque  —  and  may  ye  be  haunted  in  your 
dreams !  —  but  here's  a  cheque." 

There  was  pain  in  her  heart,  for  she  had  felt  faith  in  Mr. 
Pole's  affection  for  her.  "  And  he  said,"  she  cried  out  in 
her  lonely  room  —  "  he  said,  '  Martha,  ye've  onnly  to  come 
and  be  known  to  'm,  and  then  they'll  take  to  the  ideea/ 
And  wasn't  I  a  patient  creature !  And  it's  Pole  that's  turned 
—  Pole ! " 


MRS.  CHUMP'S  EPISTLE  293 

Varied  with  the  frequent  '  Oh ! '  and  '  Augh ! '  these  dra- 
matic monologues  occupied  her  time  while  the  yacht  was 
sailing  for  her  Devon  bay. 

At  last  the  thought  struck  her  that  she  would  send  for 
Braintop  —  telegraphing  that  expenses  would  be  paid,  and 
that  he  must  come  with  a  good  quill.  "  It  goes  faster,"  she 
whispered,  suggesting  the  pent-up  torrent,  as  it  were,  of 
blackest  ink  in  her  breast  that  there  was  to  pour  forth.  A 
very  cunning  postscript  to  the  telegram  brought  Braintop 
almost  as  quick  to  her  as  a  return  message.  It  was  merely 
—  <  Little  Belloni.' 

She  had  forgotten  this  piece  of  artifice :  but  when  she  saw 
him  start  at  the  opening  of  the  door,  keeping  a  sheepish  watch 
in  that  direction, "  By'n-by,"  she  said,  with  a  nod ;  and  shortly 
afterward  unfolded  her  object  in  summoning  him  from  his 
London  labours :  "  A  widde- woman  ought  to  get  marrud,  Mr. 
Braintop,  if  onnly  to  have  a  husband  to  write  letters  for  'rr. 
Now,  that's  a  task !  But  sup  to-night,  and  mind  ye  say  yer 
prayers  before  gettin'  into  bed;  and  no  tryin'  to  flatter  your 
Maker  with  your  knees  cuddled  up  to  your  chin  under  the 
counterpane.  I  do  't  myself  sometimes,  and  I  know  one 
prayer  out  of  bed 's  worrth  ten  of  'm  in.  Then  I'll  pray  too ; 
and  mayhap  we'll  get  permission  and  help  to  write  our  letter 
to-morrow,  though  Sunday,  as  ye  say." 

On  the  morrow  Braintop's  spirits  were  low,  he  having  per- 
ceived that  the  '  Little  Belloni '  postscript  had  been  but  an 
Irish  chuckle  and  nudge  in  his  ribs,  by  way  of  sly  insinua- 
tion or  reminder.  He  looked  out  on  the  sea,  and  sighed  to 
be  under  certain  white  sails  visible  in  the  offing.  Mrs. 
Chump  had  received  by  the  morning's  post  another  letter 
from  Arabella,  enclosing  one  for  Wilfrid.  A  dim  sense  of 
approaching  mastery,  and  that  she  might  soon  be  melted, 
combined  with  the  continued  silence  of  Mr.  Pole  to  make 
her  feel  yet  more  spiteful.  She  displayed  no  commendable 
cunning  when,  to  sharpen  and  fortify  Braintop's  wits,  she 
plumped  him  at  breakfast  with  all  things  tempting  to  the 
appetite  of  man.  "  I'll  help  ye  to  'rr,"  she  said  from  time 
to  time,  finding  that  no  encouragement  made  him  potent  in 
speech. 

Fronting  the  sea  a  desk  was  laid  open.  On  it  were  the 
quills  faithfully  brought  down  by  Braintop. 


294  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

"Pole's  own  quills,"  she  said,  having  fixed  Braintop  in 
this  official  seat,  while  she  took  hers  at  a  station  half -com- 
manding the  young  clerk's  face.  The  mighty  breakfast  had 
given  Braintop  intolerable  desire  to  stretch  his  limbs  by  the 
sounding  shore,  and  enjoy  life  in  semi-oblivion.  He  cheered 
himself  with  the  reflection  that  there  was  only  one  letter  to 
write,  so  he  remarked  politely  that  he  was  at  his  hostess's 
disposal.  Thereat  Mrs.  Chump  questioned  him  closely 
whether  Mr.  Pole  had  spoken  her  name  aloud,  and  whether 
he  did  it  somehow  now  and  then  by  accident,  and  whether 
he  had  looked  worse  of  late.  Braintop  answered  the  latter 
question  first,  assuring  her  that  Mr.  Pole  was  improving. 

"  Then  there's  no  marcy  from  me,"  said  Mrs.  Chump ;  and 
immediately  discharged  an  exclamatory  narrative  of  her  re- 
cent troubles,  and  the  breach  between  herself  and  Brookfield, 
at  Braintop's  ears.  This  done,  she  told  him  that  he  was 
there  to  write  the  reply  to  the  letters  of  the  ladies,  in  her 
name.  "  Begin,"  she  said.  "  Ye've  got  head  enough  to  guess 
my  feelin's.  I'm  invited,  and  I  won't  go  —  till  I'm  fetched. 
But  don't  say  that.  That's  their  guess  ye  know.  'And  I 
don't  care  for  ye  enough  to  be  angry  at  all,  but  it's  pity  I 
feel  at  a  parcel  of  fine  garls '  —  so  on,  Mr.  Braintop." 

The  perplexities  of  epistolary  correspondence  were  assum- 
ing the  like  proportions  to  the  recruited  secretary  that  they 
had  worn  to  Mrs.  Chump.  Steadily  watching  his  counte- 
nance, she  jogged  him  thus:  "As  if  ye  couldn't  help  ut,  ye 
know,  ye  begin.  Just  like  wakin'  in  the  mornin'  after 
dancin'  all  night.  Ye  make  the  garls  seem  to  hear  me 
seemin'  to  say  —  Oooo !  I  was  so  comfortable  before  your 
disturbin'  me  with  your  horrud  voices.  Ye  understand,  Mr. 
Braintop  ?  <  I'm  in  bed,  and  you're  a  cold  bath.'  Begin  like 
that,  ye  know.  '  Here's  clover,  and  you're  nettles.'  D'ye 
see  ?  '  Here  from  my  glass  o'  good  Porrt  to  your  tumbler 
of  horrud  acud  vin'gar.'  Bless  the  boy !  he  don't  begin." 

She  stamped  her  foot.  Braintop,  in  desperation,  made  a 
plunge  at  the  paper.  Looking  over  his  shoulder  in  a  delighted 
eagerness,  she  suddenly  gave  it  a  scornful  push.  "  '  Dear ! '  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  You're  dearin'  them,  absurd  young  man  ! 
I'm  not  the  woman  to  '  dear '  'em  —  not  at  the  starrt !  I'm  in- 
dignant —  I'm  hurrt.  I  come  round  to  the  '  dear '  by-and-by, 
after  I  have  whipped  each  of  the  proud  sluts,  and  their  brother 


MRS.  CHUMP'S  EPISTLE  295 

Mr.  Wilfrud,  just  as  if  by  accident.  Ye'll  promus  to  forget 
avery  secret  I  tell  ye  ;  but  our  way  is  always  to  pretend  to 
believe  the  men  can't  help  themselves.  So  the  men  look  like 
fools,  ye  sly  laughin'  fella!  and  the  women  horrud  scheming 
spiders.  Now,  away  with  ye,  and  no  dearin'." 

The  Sunday-bells  sounded  mockingly  in  Braintop's  ears, 
appearing  to  ask  him  how  he  liked  his  holiday ;  and  the 
white  sails  on  the  horizon  line  have  seldom  taunted  prisoner 
more.  He  spread  out  another  sheet  of  note-paper  and  wrote 
"  My,"  arid  there  he  stopped. 

Mrs.  Chump  was  again  at  his  elbow.  "  But,  they  aren't 
'  my,'  "  she  remonstrated,  "  when  I've  nothin'  to  do  with  'm. 
And  a  'my'  has  a  'dear'  to  't  always.  Ye're  not  awake, 
Mr.  Braintop ;  try  again." 

"Shall  I  begin  formally,  'Mrs.  Chump  presents  her  com- 
pliments,' ma'am  ?  "  said  Braintop  stiffly. 

"  And  I  stick  myself  up  on  a  post,  and  talk  like  a  parrot, 
sir  !  Don't  you  see,  I'm  familiar,  and  I'm  woundud  ?  Go 
along ;  try  again." 

Braintop's  next  effort  was,  "  Ladies." 

"  But  they  don't  behave  to  me  like  ladus,  and  it's  against 
my  conscience  to  call  'em ! "  said  Mrs.  Chump,  with  resolution. 

Braintop  wrote  down  "  Women,"  in  the  very  irony  of 
disgust. 

"  And  avery  one  of  'em  unmarrud  garls  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Chump,  throwing  up  her  hands.  "Mr.  Braintop!  Mr. 
Braintop!  ye're  next  to  an  ejut!" 

Braintop  threw  down  the  pen.  "I  really  do  not  know 
what  to  say,"  he  remarked,  rising  in  distress. 

"  I  naver  had  such  a  desire  to  shake  anny  man  in  all  my 
life,"  said  Mrs.  Chump,  dropping  to  her  chair. 

The  posture  of  affairs  was  chimed  to  by  the  monotonous 
bell.  After  listening  to  it  for  some  minutes,  Mrs.  Chump 
was  struck  with  a  notion  that  Braintop's  sinfulness  in  work- 
ing on  a  Sunday,  or  else  the  shortness  of  the  prayer  he  had 
put  up  to  gain  absolution,  was  the  cause  of  hia  lack  of  ready 
wit.  Hearing  that  he  had  gloves,  she  told  him  to  go  to  church, 
listen  devoutly,  and  return  to  luncheon.  Braintop  departed, 
with  a  sensation  of  relief  in  the  anticipation  of  a  sermon,  quite 
new  to  him.  When  he  next  made  his  bow  to  his  hostess,  he 
was  greeted  by  a  pleasant  sparkle  of  refreshments.  Mrs. 


296  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

Chump  herself  primed  him  with  Sherry,  thinking  in  the 
cunning  of  her  heart  that  it  might  haply  help  the  inspiration 
derived  from  his  devotional  exercise.  After  this,  pen  and 
paper  were  again  produced. 

"  Well,  now,  Mr.  Braintop,  and  what  have  ye  thought  of  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Chump,  encouragingly. 

Braintop  thought  rapidly  over  what  he  might  possibly  have 
been  thinking  of ;  and  having  put  a  file  of  ideas  into  the  past, 
said,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  delicately  suggests  a  subtlety : 
"  It  has  struck  me,  ma'am,  that  perhaps  '  Girls  '  might  begin 
very  well.  To  be  sure  '  Dear  girls '  is  the  best,  if  you  would 
consent  to  it." 

"  Take  another  glass  of  wine,  Mr.  Braintop,"  Mrs.  Chump 
nodded.  "Ye're  nearer  to  ut  now.  'Garls'  is  what  they 
are,  at  all  events.  But  don't  you  see,  my  dear  young  man,  it 
isn't  the  real  thing  we  want  so  much  as  a  sort  of  a  proud 
beginning  shorrt  of  slappin'  their  faces.  Think  of  a  dinner. 
Furrst  soup ;  that  prepares  ye  for  what's  comin'.  Then  fish, 
which  is  on  the  road  to  meat,  d'ye  see  ?  —  we  pepper  'em. 
Then  joint,  Mr.  Braintop  —  out  we  burrst :  *  Oh,  and  what 
ins'lent  hussies  ye've  been  to  me,  and  ye'll  naver  see  anny- 
thing  of  me  but  my  back ! '  Then  the  sweets,  — '  But  I'm  a 
forgivin'  woman,  and  a  Christian  in  the  bargain,  ye  ungrate- 
ful minxes ;  and  if  ye  really  are  sorrowful ! '  And  there,  Mr. 
Braintop,  ye've  got  it  all  laid  out  as  flat  as  a  pancake." 

Mrs.  Chump  gave  the  motion  of  a  lightning  scrawl  of  the 
pen.  Braintop  looked  at  the  paper,  which  now  appeared  to 
recede  from  his  eyes,  and  flourish  like  a  descending  kite. 
The  nature  of  the  task  he  had  undertaken  became  moun- 
tainous in  his  imagination,  till  at  last  he  fixed  his  forehead 
in  his  thumbs  and  fingers,  and  resolutely  counted  a  number 
of  meaningless  words  one  hundred  times.  As  this  was  the 
attitude  of  a  severe  student,  Mrs.  Chump  remained  in  expec- 
tation. Aware  of  the  fearful  confidence  he  had  excited  in 
her,  Braintop  fell  upon  a  fresh  hundred,  with  variations. 

"  The  truth  is,  I  think  better  in  church,"  he  said,  disclosing 
at  last  as  ingenuous  a  face  as  he  could  assume.  He  scarcely 
ventured  to  hope  for  a  second  dismissal. 

To  his  joy,  Mrs.  Chump  responded  with  a  sigh :  "  There,  go 
again ;  and  the  Lord  forgive  ye  for  directin'  your  mind  to 
temporal  matters  when  ye're  there !  It's  none  of  my  doin', 


MBS.   CHUMP'S  EPISTLE  297 

remember  that ;  and  don't  be  tryin'  to  make  me  a  participator 
in  your  wickudness." 

"  This  is  so  difficult,  ma'am,  because  you  won't  begin  with 
'  Dear,' "  he  observed  snappishly,  as  he  was  retiring. 

"  Of  coorse  it's  difficult  if  it  bothers  me,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Chump,  divided  between  that  view  of  the  case  and  contempt 
of  Braintop  for  being  on  her  own  level. 

"Do  you  see,  we  are  not  to  say  'Dear'  anything,  or 
'  Ladies,'  or  —  in  short,  really,  if  you  come  to  think,  ma'am  ! " 

"  Is  that  a  woman's  business,  Mr.  Braintop  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Chump,  as  from  a  height ;  and  the  youth  retired  in  humiliation. 

Braintop  was  not  destitute  of  the  ambition  of  his  time  of 
life,  and  yearned  to  be  what  he  believed  himself  —  something 
better  than  a  clerk.  If  he  had  put  forth  no  effort  to  compose 
Mrs.  Chump's  letter,  he  would  not  have  felt  that  he  was  the 
partner  of  her  stupidity ;  but  he  had  thoughtlessly  attempted 
the  impossible  thing,  and  now,  contemplating  his  utter  fail- 
ure, he  was  in  so  low  a  state  of  mind  that  he  would  have 
taken  pen  and  written  himself  down,  with  ordinary  honesty, 
good-for-nothing.  He  returned  to  his  task,  and  found  the 
dinner  spread.  Mrs.  Chump  gave  him  champagne,  and 
drank  to  him,  requesting  him  to  challenge  her.  "  We  won't 
be  beaten,"  she  said ;  and  at  least  they  dined. 

The  'we'  smote  Brain  top's  swelling  vanity.  It  signified 
an  alliance,  and  that  they  were  yoked  to  a  common  difficulty. 

"  Oh !  let's  finish  it  and  have  it  over,"  he  remarked,  with  a 
complacent  roll  in  his  chair. 

"  Naver  stop  a  good  impulse,"  said  Mrs.  Chump,  herself 
removing  the  lamp  to  light  him. 

Braintop  sat  in  the  chair  of  torture,  and  wrote  flowingly, 
while  his  taskmistress  looked  over  him,  "  Ladies  of  Brook- 
field."  He  read  it  out :  "  Ladies  of  Brookfield." 

"  I'll  be  vary  happy  to  represent  ye  at  the  forthcomin* 
'lection,"  Mrs.  Chump  gave  a  continuation  in  his  tone. 

"  Why,  won't  that  do,  ma'am  ?  "  Braintop  asked  in  wonder- 
ment. 

"  Cap'tal  for  a  circular,  Mr.  Braintop.  And  ye'll  allow  me 
to  say  that  I  don't  think  ye've  been  to  church  at  all." 

This  accusation  containing  a  partial  truth  (that  is,  true  if 
it  referred  to  the  afternoon,  but  not  as  to  the  morning),  it 
was  necessary  for  Braintop's  self -vindication  that  he  should 


298  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

feel  angry.  The  two  were  very  soon  recriminating,  much 
in  the  manner  of  boy  and  girl  shut  up  on  a  sunny  afternoon ; 
after  which  they,  in  like  manner,  made  it  up  —  the  fact  of 
both  having  a  habit  of  consulting  the  glass,  and  the  accident 
of  their  doing  it  at  the  same  time,  causing  an  encounter  of 
glances  there  that  could  hardly  fail  to  be  succeeded  by  some 
affability.  For  a  last  effort,  Mrs.  Chump  laid  before  Brain- 
top  a  prospect  of  advancement  in  his  office,  if  he  so  contrived 
as  to  write  a  letter  that  should  land  her  in  Brookfield  among 
a  scourged,  repentant,  and  forgiven  people.  That  he  might 
understand  the  position,  she  went  far  modestly  to  reveal  her 
weakness  for  Mr.  Pole.  She  even  consented  to  let '  Ladies ' 
be  the  opening  apostrophe,  provided  the  word  ( Young '  went 
before  it :  "  They'll  feel  that  sting,"  she  said.  Braintop  stip- 
ulated that  she  should  not  look  till  the  letter  was  done ;  and, 
observing  his  pen  travelling  the  lines  in  quick  succession, 
Mrs.  Chump  became  inspired  by  a  great  but  uneasy  hope. 
She  was  only  to  be  restrained  from  peeping,  by  Braintop's 
petulant  "  Pray,  ma'am ! "  which  sent  her  bouncing  back  to 
her  chair,  with  a  face  upon  one  occasion  too  solemn  for  Brain- 
top's  gravity.  He  had  written  himself  into  excellent  spirits ; 
and  happening  to  look  up  as  Mrs.  Chump  retreated  from  his 
shoulder,  the  woman's  comic  reverence  for  his  occupation  — 
the  prim  movement  of  her  lips  while  she  repeated  mutely  the 
words  she  supposed  he  might  be  penning — touched  him  to 
laughter.  At  once  Mrs.  Chump  seized  on  the  paper.  "  Young 
ladus,"  she  read  aloud,  "  yours  of  the  2nd,  the  14th,  and  21st 
ulto.  The  'Section  I  bear  to  your  onnly  remaining  parent." 
Her  enunciation  waxed  slower  and  significantly  staccato 
toward  a  pause.  The  composition  might  undoubtedly  have 
issued  from  a  merchant's  office,  and  would  have  done  no 
discredit  to  the  establishment.  When  the  pause  came, 
Braintop,  half  for  an  opinion,  and  to  encourage  progress, 
said,  "  Yes,  ma'am ; "  and  with  "  There,  sir ! "  Mrs.  Chump 
crumpled  up  the  paper  and  flung  it  at  him.  "  And  there, 
sir ! "  she  tossed  a  pen.  Hearing  Braintop  mutter,  "  Lady- 
like behaviour,"  Mrs.  Chump  came  out  in  a  fiery  bloom. 
"  Ye  detestable  young  fella !  Oh,  ye  young  deceiver !  Ye 
cann't  do  the  work  of  a  man!  Oh!  and  here's  another 
woman  dis'pointed,  and  when  she  thought  she'd  got  a  man 
to  write  her  letters  1 " 


MBS.  CHUMP'S  EPISTLE  299 

Braintop  rose  and  retorted. 

"Ye' re  false,  Mr.  Braintop  —  ye're  offensuv,  sir!"  said 
Mrs.  Chump;  and  Braintop  instantly  retired  upon  an  ex- 
pressive bow.  When  he  was  out  of  the  room,  Mrs.  Chump 
appealed  spitefully  to  an  audience  of  chairs ;  but  when  she 
heard  the  front-door  shut  with  a  report,  she  jumped  up  in 
terror,  crying  incredulously,  "  Is  the  young  man  pos'tively 
gone?  Oh!  and  me  alone  in  a  rage!"  —  the  contemplated 
horrors  of  which  position  set  her  shouting  vociferously. 
"  Mr.  Braintop ! "  sounded  over  the  stairs,  and  "  Mr.  Brain- 
top  ! "  into  the  street.  The  maid  brought  Mrs.  Chump  her 
bonnet.  Night  had  fallen;  and  nothing  but  the  greatest 
anxiety  to  recover  Braintop  would  have  tempted  her  from 
her  house.  She  made  half-a-dozen  steps,  and  then  stopped 
to  mutter,  "  Oh !  if  ye'd  onnly  come,  I'd  forgive  ye  —  indeed 
I  would!" 

"Well,  here  I  am,"  was  instantaneously  answered;  her 
waist  was  clasped,  and  her  forehead  was  kissed. 

The  madness  of  Braintop's  libertinism  petrified  her. 

"  Ye' ve  taken  such  a  liberty,  sir  —  'deed  ye've  forgotten 
yourself ! " 

While  she  was  speaking,  she  grew  confused  with  the 
thought  that  Braintop  had  mightily  altered  both  in  voice 
and  shape.  When  on  the  doorstep  he  said,  "  Come  out  of 
the  darkness  or,  upon  my  honour,  I  shall  behave  worse,"  she 
recognized  Wilfrid,  and  understood  by  his  yachting  costume 
in  what  manner  he  had  come.  He  gave  her  no  time  to 
think  of  her  dignity  or  her  wrath.  "  Lady  Charlotte  is  with 
me.  I  sleep  at  the  hotel ;  but  you  have  no  objection  to  re- 
ceive her,  have  you  ? "  This  set  her  mind  upon  her  best 
bedroom,  her  linen,  and  the  fitness  of  her  roof  to  receive  a 
title.  Then,  in  a  partial  fit  of  gratitude  for  the  honour, 
and  immense  thankfulness  at  being  spared  the  task  of  the 
letter,  she  fell  on  Wilfrid's  shoulder,  beginning  to  sob  —  till 
he,  in  alarm  at  his  absurd  position,  suggested  that  Lady 
Charlotte  awaited  a  welcome.  Mrs.  Chump  immediately 
flew  to  her  drawing-room  and  rang  bells,  appearing  presently 
with  a  lamp,  which  she  set  on  a  garden-pillar.  Together 
they  stood  by  the  lamp,  a  spectacle  to  ocean :  but  no  Lady 
Charlotte  drew  near. 


300  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

CHAPTEE  XXXVI 

ANOTHER   PITFALL    OF    SENTIMENT 

THOUGH  Mrs.  Chump  and  Wilfrid,  as  they  stood  by  the 
light  of  the  lamp,  saw  no  one,  they  themselves  were  seen. 
Lady  Charlotte  had  arranged  to  give  him  a  moment  in 
advance  to  make  his  peace.  She  had  settled  it  with  that 
air  of  practical  sense  which  her  title  made  graceful  to  him. 
"I  will  follow;  and  I  dare  say  I  can  complete  what  you 
leave  unfinished,"  she  said.  Her  humorous  sense  of  the 
aristocratic  prestige  was  conveyed  to  him  in  a  very  taking 
smile.  He  scarcely  understood  why  she  should  have  planned 
so  decisively  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation  between  Mrs. 
Chump  and  his  family;  still,  as  it  now  chimed  perfectly 
with  his  own  views  and  wishes,  he  acquiesced  in  her  scheme, 
giving  her  at  the  same  time  credit  for  more  than  common 
wisdom. 

While  Lady  Charlotte  lingered  on  the  beach,  she  became 
aware  of  a  figure  that  hung  about  her ;  as  she  was  moving 
away,  a  voice  of  one  she  knew  well  enough  asked  to  be 
directed  to  the  house  inhabited  by  Mrs.  Chump.  The 
lady  was  more  startled  than  it  pleased  her  to  admit  to 
herself. 

"  Don't  you  know  me  ?  "  she  said,  bluntly. 

"  You ! "  went  Emilia's  voice. 

"  Why  on  earth  are  you  here  ?  What  brings  you  here  ? 
Are  you  alone  ?  "  returned  the  lady. 

Emilia  did  not  answer. 

"  What  extraordinary  expedition  are  you  making  ?  But, 
tell  me  one  thing :  are  you  here  of  your  own  accord,  or  at 
somebody  else's  bidding  ?  " 

Impatient  at  the  prospect  of  a  continuation  of  silences, 
Lady  Charlotte  added,  "  Come  with  me." 

Emilia  seemed  to  be  refusing. 

"  The  appointment  was  made  at  that  house,  I  know,"  said 
the  lady ;  "  but  if  you  come  with  me,  you  will  see  him  just 
as  readily." 

At  this  instant,  the  lamp  was  placed  on  the  pillar,  show- 


ANOTHER  PITFALL  OF   SENTIMENT  301 

ing  Wilfrid,  in  his  sailor's  hat  and  overcoat,  beside  the  flut- 
tering Irishwoman. 

"  Come,  I  must  speak  to  you  first,"  said  Lady  Charlotte 
hurriedly,  thinking  that  she  saw  Emilia's  hands  stretch  out. 
"Pray,  don't  go  into  attitudes.  There  he  is,  as  you  per- 
ceive ;  and  I  don't  use  witchcraft.  Come  with  me ;  I  will 
send  for  him.  Haven't  you  learnt  by  this  time  that  there's 
nothing  he  detests  so  much  as  a  public  display  of  the  kind 
you're  trying  to  provoke  ?  " 

Emilia  half  comprehended  her. 

"  He  changes  when  he's  away  from  me, "  she  said,  in  a 
low  toneless  voice. 

"Less  than  I  fancied,"  the  lady  thought. 

Then  she  told  Emilia  that  there  was  really  no  necessity 
for  her  to  whine  and  be  miserable ;  she  was  among  friends, 
and  so  forth.  The  simplicity  of  her  manner  of  speech 
found  its  way  to  Emilia's  reason  quicker  than  her  argu- 
ments; and,  in  the  belief  that  Wilfrid  was  speaking  to 
Mrs.  Chump  on  urgent  private  matters  (she  had  great  awe 
of  the  word  '  business '),  Emilia  suffered  herself  to  be  led 
away.  She  uttered  twice  a  little  exclamation,  as  she  looked 
back,  that  sounded  exceedingly  comical  to  Lady  Charlotte's 
ears.  They  were  the  repressions  of  a  poignant  outcry. 
"  Doggies  make  that  noise, "  thought  the  lady,  and  succeeded 
in  feeling  contemptuous. 

Wilfrid,  when  he  found  that  Lady  Charlotte  was  not 
coming,  bestowed  a  remark  upon  her  sex,  and  went  indoors 
for  his  letter.  He  considered  it  politic  not  to  read  it 
there,  Mrs.  Chump  having  grown  so  friendly,  and  even 
motherly,  that  she  might  desire,  out  of  pure  affection,  to 
share  the  contents.  He  put  it  by  and  talked  gaily,  till 
Mrs.  Chump,  partly  to  account  for  the  defection  of  the  lady, 
observed  that  she  knew  they  had  a  quarrel.  She  was  con- 
firmed in  this  idea  on  a  note  being  brought  in  to  him,  over 
which,  before  opening  it,  he  frowned  and  flushed.  Aware 
of  the  treachery  of  his  countenance,  he  continued  doing  so 
after  his  eyes  had  taken  in  the  words,  though  there  was  no 
special  ground  furnished  by  them  for  any  such  exhibition. 
Mrs. 
lation, 
ye. 


302  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

say,  my  dear,  when  I  die  (which  it's  so  horrud  to  think  of), 
you'll  have  a  share,  and  the  biggest  —  this  vary  cottage, 
and  a  good  parrt  o'  the  Bank  property  —  she'll  come  down 
at  that.  And  if  ye  marry  a  lady  of  title,  I'll  be  's  good  as 
my  word,  I  will." 

Wilfrid  pressed  her  fingers.  "  Can  you  ever  believe  that 
I  have  called  you  a  'simmering  pot  of  Emerald  broth'?" 

"My  dear!  annything  that's  lots  o'  words,  ye  may  call 
me,"  returned  Mrs.  Chump,  "as  long  as  it's  no  name.  Ye 
won't  call  me  a  name,  will  ye?  Lots  o'  words  —  it's  onnly 
as  if  ye  peppered  me,  and  I  sneeze,  and  that's  all;  but  a 
name  sticks  to  yer  back  like  a  bit  o'  pinned  paper.  Don't 
call  me  a  name,"  and  she  wriggled  pathetically. 

"Yes,"  said  Wilfrid,  "I  shall  call  you  Pole." 

"  Oh !  ye  sweetest  of  young  fellas ! " 

Mrs.  Chump  threw  out  her  arms.  She  was  on  the  point 
of  kissing  him,  but  he  fenced  with  the  open  letter ;  and 
learning  that  she  might  read  it,  she  gave  a  cry  of  joy. 

"'Dear  W. !'  she  begins;  and  it's  twice  dear  from  a 
lady  of  title.  She's  just  a  multiplication-table  for  anny- 
thing she  says  and  touches.  'Dear  W. ! '  and  the  shorter 
time  a  single  you  the  better.  I'll  have  my  joke,  Mr.  Wil- 
frud.  'Dear  W. ! '  Bless  her  heart  now!  I  seem  to  like 
her  next  best  to  the  Queen  already. — 'I  have  another 
plan.'  Ye'd  better  keep  to  the  old;  but  it's  two  paths,  I 
suppose,  to  one  point.  — '  Another  plan.  Come  to  me  at 
the  Dolphin,  where  I  am  alone.'  Oh,  Lord!  'Alone,'  with 
a  line  under  it,  Mr.  Wilfrud!  But  there  —  the  arr'stocracy 
needn't  matter  a  bit." 

"It's  a  very  singular  proceeding  not  the  less,"  said  Wil- 
frid. "  Why  didn't  she  go  to  the  hotel  where  the  others 
are,  if  she  wouldn't  come  here?" 

"  But  the  arr'stocracy,  Mr.  Wilfrud !  And  alone  —  alone ! 
d'ye  see?  which  couldn't  be  among  the  others,  becas  of 
sweet  whisperin'.  'Alone,'"  Mrs.  Chump  read  on;  "'and 
to-morrow  I'll  pay  my  respects  to  what  you  call  your  sim- 
mering pot  of  Emerald  broth.'  Oh  ye  hussy  I  I'd  say,  if 
ye  weren't  a  borrn  lady.  And  signs  ut  all,  'Your  faithful 
Charlotte.'  Mr.  Wilfrud,  I'd  give  five  pounds  for  this 
letter  if  I  didn't  know  ye  wouldn't  part  with  it  under  fifty. 
And  'deed  I  am  a  simmerin'  pot;  for  she'll  be  a  relation, 


ANOTHER   PITFALL  OP  SENTIMENT  303 

my  dear!  Go  to  'r.  I'll  have  your  bed  ready  for  ye  here 
at  the  end  of  an  hour;  and  to-morrrow  perhaps,  if  Lady 
Charlotte  can  spare  me,  I'll  condescend  to  see  Ad'la." 

Wilfrid  fanned  her  cheek  with  the  note,  and  then  dropped 
it  on  her  neck  and  left  the  room.  He  was  soon  hurrying 
on  his  way  to  the  Dolphin :  midway  he  stopped.  "  There 
may  be  a  bad  shot  in  Bella's  letter,"  he  thought.  Shop- 
lights  were  ahead:  a  very  luminous  chemist  sent  a  green 
ray  into  the  darkness.  Wilfrid  fixed  himself  under  it. 
"  Confoundedly  appropriate  for  a  man  reading  that  his  wife 
has  run  away  from  him ! "  he  muttered,  and  had  quickly 
plunged  into  matter  quite  as  absorbing.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished it  he  shivered.  Thus  it  ran :  — 

"  My  beloved  brother, 

"I  bring  myself  to  plain  words.  Happy  those  who 
can  trifle  with  human  language !  Papa  has  at  last  taken 
us  into  his  confidence.  He  has  not  spoken  distinctly;  he 
did  us  the  credit  to  see  that  it  was  not  necessary.  If  in 
our  abyss  of  grief  we  lose  delicacy,  what  is  left?  —  what? 

"  The  step  he  desired  to  take,  WHICH  WE  OPPOSED,  he  has 
anticipated,  AND  MUST  CONSUMMATE. 

"Oh,  Wilfrid!  you  see  it,  do  you  not?  You  comprehend 
me  I  am  sure!  I  should  have  said  'had  anticipated.  How 
to  convey  to  you !  (but  it  would  be  unjust  to  him  —  to  our- 
selves —  were  I  to  say  emphatically  what  I  have  not  yet 
a  right  to  think).  What  I  have  hinted  above  is,  after  all, 
nothing  but  Cornelia's  conjecture,  I  wish  I  could  not  say 
confirmed  by  mine.  We  sat  with  Papa  two  hours  before 
any  idea  of  his  meaning  dawned  upon  us.  He  first  scolded 
us.  We  both  saw  from  this  that  more  was  to  come. 

"  I  hope  there  are  not  many  in  this  world  to  whom  the 
thought  of  honour  being  tied  to  money  ever  appears  possible. 
If  it  is  so  there  is  wide  suffering  —  deep,  for  it  must  be 
silent.  Cornelia  suggests  one  comfort  for  them  —  that  they 
will  think  less  of  poverty. 

"Why  was  Brookfield  ever  bought?  Our  old  peaceful 
City-life !  —  the  vacant  Sundays !  —  my  ears  are  haunted  by 
their  bells  for  Evening  Service.  I  said  —  'There  they  go, 
the  dowdy  population  of  heaven! '  I  remember  it  now.  It 
should  be  almost  punishment  enough  to  be  certain  that  oi 


304  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

all  those  people  going  to  church,  there  cannot  be  one  more 
miserable  than  we  who  stood  at  the  old  window  ridiculing 
them.  They  at  least  do  not  feel  that  everything  they  hope 
for  in  human  life  is  dependent  upon  one  human  will  —  the 
will  of  a  mortal  weather-vane!  It  is  the  case,  and  it  must 
be  conciliated.  There  is  no  half -measure  —  no  choice. 
Feel  that  nothing  you  have  ever  dreamed  of  can  be  a  dis- 
grace if  it  is  undergone  to  forestall  what  positively  impends, 
and  act  immediately.  I  shall  expect  to  see  you  in  three 
days.  She  is  to  have  the  South-west  bedroom  (mine),  for 
which  she  expressed  a  preference.  Prepare  every  mind  for 
the  ceremony:  —  an  old  man's  infatuation  —  money  —  we 
submit.  It  will  take  place  in  town.  To  have  the  Tinleys 
in  the  church!  But  this  is  certainly  my  experience,  that 
misfortune  makes  me  feel  more  and  more  superior  to 
those  whom  I  despise.  I  have  even  asked  myself  —  was  I 
so  once?  And,  apropos  of  Laura!  We  hear  that  their 
evenings  are  occupied  in  performing  the  scene  at  Besworth. 
They  are  still  as  distant  as  ever  from  Richford.  Let  me 
add  that  Albert  Tinley  requested  my  hand  in  marriage  yes- 
terday. I  agree  with  Cornelia  that  this  is  the  first  palpable 
sign  that  we  have  sunk.  Consequent  upon  the  natural  con- 
sequences came  the  interview  with  Papa. 

"  Dearest,  dearest  Wilfrid !  can  you,  can  I,  can  any  one 
of  us  settle  —  that  is,  involve  another  life  in  doubt  while 
doubt  exists?  Papa  insists;  his  argument  is,  'Now,  now, 
and  no  delay.'  I  accuse  nothing  but  his  love.  Excessive 
love  is  perilous  for  principle! 

"  You  have  understood  me,  I  know,  and  forgiven  me  for 
writing  so  nakedly.  I  dare  not  reperuse  it.  You  must 
satisfy  him  that  Lady  C.  has  fixed  a  date.  Adela  is  in- 
comprehensible. One  day  she  sees  a  friend  in  Lady  C., 
and  again  it  is  an  enemy.  Papa's  immediate  state  of  health 
is  not  alarming.  Above  all  things,  do  not  let  the  girl  come 
near  him.  Papa  will  send  the  cheque  you  required." 

"When?  "  Wilfrid  burst  out  upon  Arabella's  affectionate 
signature.  "When  will  he  send  it?  He  doesn't  do  me  the 
honour  to  mention  the  time.  And  this  is  his  reply  to  a 
third  application ! " 

The  truth  was  that  Wilfrid  was  in  dire  want  of  tangible 
cash  simply  to  provision  his  yacht.  The  light  kindled  in 


ANOTHER  PITFALL  OF   SENTIMENT  305 

him  by  this  unsatisfied  need  made  him  keen  to  comprehend 
all  that  Arabella's  attempt  at  plain  writing  designed  to 
unfold. 

"Good  God,  my  father's  the  woman's  trustee!"  shaped 
itself  in  Wilfrid's  brain. 

And  next :  "  If  he  marries  her  we  may  all  be  as  poor  as 
before."  That  is  to  say,  "Honour  maybe  saved  without 
ruin  being  averted." 

His  immediate  pressing  necessity  struck  like  a  pulse 
through  all  the  chords  of  dismal  conjecture.  His  heart 
flying  about  for  comfort,  dropped  at  Emilia's  feet. 

"Bella's  right,"  he  said,  reverting  to  the  green  page  in 
his  hand ;  "  we  can't  involve  others  in  our  scrape,  whatever 
it  may  be." 

He  ceased  on  the  spot  to  be  at  war  with  himself,  as  he 
had  been  for  many  a  day;  by  which  he  was  taught  to 
imagine  that  he  had  achieved  a  mental  indifference  to  mis- 
fortune. This  lightened  his  spirit  considerably.  "So 
there's  an  end  of  that,"  he  emphasized,  as  the  resolve  took 
form  to  tell  Lady  Charlotte  flatly  that  his  father  was  ruined, 
and  that  the  son,  therefore,  renounced  his  particular  hope 
and  aspiration. 

"  She  will  say,  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  way  in  the 
world,  'Oh,  very  well,  that  quite  alters  the  case,'"  said 
Wilfrid  aloud,  with  the  smallest  infusion  of  bitterness. 
Then  he  murmured,  "  Poor  old  governor ! "  and  wondered 
whether  Emilia  would  come  to  this  place  according  to  his 
desire.  Love,  that  had  lain  crushed  in  him  for  the  few 
recent  days,  sprang  up  and  gave  him  the  thought,  "  She  may 
be  here  now; "  but,  his  eyes  not  being  satiated  instantly  with 
a  sight  of  her,  the  possibility  of  such  happiness  faded  out. 

"  Blessed  little  woman ! "  he  cried  openly,  ashamed  to 
translate  in  tenderer  terms  the  soft  fresh  blossom  of  love 
that  his  fancy  conjured  forth  at  the  recollection  of  her. 
He  pictured  to  himself  hopefully,  moreover,  that  she  would 
be  shy  when  they  met.  A  contradictory  vision  of  her  eyes 
lifted  hungry  for  his  first  words,  or  the  pressure  of  his  arm 
displeased  him  slightly.  It  occurred  to  him  that  they 
would  be  characterized  as  a  singular  couple.  To  combat 
this  he  drew  around  him  all  the  mysteries  of  sentiment 
that  had  issued  from  her  voice  and  her  eyes.  She  had  made 


306  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

earth  lovely  to  him  and  heaven  human.  She what  a 

grief  for  ever  that  her  origin  should  be  what  it  was !  For 
this  reason: — lovers  must  live  like  ordinary  people  out- 
wardly ;  and  say,  ye  Fates,  how  had  she  been  educated  to 
direct  a  gentleman's  household? 

"/can't  exist  on  potatoes,"  he  pronounced  humorously. 

But  when  his  thoughts  began  to  dwell  with  fitting  serious- 
ness on  the  woman-of-the-world  tone  to  be  expected  from 
Lady  Charlotte,  he  folded  the  mental  image  of  Emilia 
closely  to  his  breast,  and  framed  a  misty  idea  of  a  little 
lighted  cottage  wherein  she  sat  singing  to  herself  while  he 
was  campaigning.  "  Two  or  three  fellows  —  Lumley  and 
Fredericks  —  shall  see  her,"  he  thought.  The  rest  of  his 
brother  officers  were  not  even  to  know  that  he  was  married. 

His  yacht  was  lying  in  a  strip  of  moonlight  near  Sir 
Twickenham's  companion  yawl.  He  gave  one  glance  at  it, 
as  at  a  history  finished,  and  sent  up  his  name  to  Lady 
Charlotte. 

"  Ah !  you  haven't  brought  the  good  old  dame  with  you?  " 
she  said,  rising  to  meet  him.  "  I  thought  it  better  not  to 
see  her  to-night." 

He  acquiesced,  mentioning  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  and 
adding,  "You  are  alone?" 

She  stared,  and  let  fall  "Certainly,"  and  then  laughed. 
4t  I  had  forgotten  your  regard  for  the  proprieties.  I  have 
just  sent  my  maid  for  Georgiana;  she  will  sleep  here.  I 
preferred  to  come  here,  because  those  people  at  the  hotel 
tire  me;  and,  besides,  I  said  I  should  sleep  at  the  villa, 
tmd  I  never  go  back  to  people  who  don't  expect  me." 

Wilfrid  looked  about  the  room  perplexed,  and  almost 
suspicious  because  of  his  unexplained  perplexity.  Her  (as 
ne  deemed  it  —  not  much  above  the  level  of  Mrs.  Chump  in 
that  respect)  aristocratic  indifference  to  opinion  and  con- 
ventional social  observances  would  have  pleased  him  by 
daylight,  but  it  fretted  him  now. 

Lady  Charlotte's  maid  came  in  to  say  that  Miss  Ford 
would  join  her.  The  maid  was  dismissed  to  her  bed. 
"There's  nothing  to  do  there,"  said  her  mistress,  as  she 
was  moving  to  the  folding-doors.  The  window  facing  sea- 
ward was  open.  He  went  straight  to  it  and  closed  it. 
Next,  in  an  apparent  distraction,  he  went  to  the  folding- 


ANOTHER   PITFALL  OF   SENTIMENT  807 

doors.  He  was  about  to  press  the  handle,  when  Lady 
Charlotte's  quiet  remark,  "My  bedroom,"  brought  him 
back  to  his  seat,  crying  pardon. 

"Have  you  had  news?"  she  inquired.  "You  thought 
that  a  letter  might  be  there.  Bad,  is  it?" 

"It  is  not  good,"  he  replied,  briefly. 

"I  am  sorry." 

"That  is  — it  tells  me "  (Wilfrid  disciplined  his 

tongue)  "  that  I  —  we  are  —  a  lieutenant  on  half -pay  may 
say  that  he  is  ruined,  I  suppose,  when  his  other  supplies 
are  cut  off!  .  .  ." 

"I  can  excuse  him  for  thinking  it,"  said  Lady  Charlotte. 
She  exhibited  no  sign  of  eagerness  for  his  statement  of  facts. 

Her  outward  composure  and  a  hard  animation  of  counte- 
nance (which,  having  ceased  the  talking  within  himself,  he 
had  now  leisure  to  notice)  humiliated  him.  The  sting 
helped  him  to  progress. 

"  I  may  try  to  doubt  it  as  much  as  I  please,  to  avoid 
seeing  what  must  follow.  ...  I  may  shut  my  eyes  in  the 
dark,  but  when  the  light  stares  me  in  the  face  ...  I  give 
you  my  word  that  I  have  not  been  justified  even  in  imagin- 
ing such  a  catastrophe." 

"The  preamble  is  awful,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  rising 
from  her  recumbent  posture. 

"  Pardon  me ;  I  have  no  right  to  intrude  my  feelings.  I 
learn  to-day,  for  the  first  time,  that  we  are  —  are  ruined." 

She  did  not  lift  her  eyebrows,  or  look  fixedly ;  but  with- 
out any  change  at  all,  said,  "  Is  there  no  doubt  about  it  ?  " 

"None  whatever."  This  was  given  emphatically.  Re- 
sentment at  the  perfect  realization  of  her  anticipated 
worldly  indifference  lent  him  force. 

"  Ruined  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Yes." 

"You  can't  be  more  so  than  you  were  a  month  ago.  1 
mean,  you  tell  me  nothing  new ;  I  have  known  it" 

Amid  the  crush  and  hurry  in  his  brain,  caused  by  this 
strange  communication,  pressed  the  necessity  to  vindicate 
his  honour. 

"  I  give  you  the  word  of  a  gentleman,  Lady  Charlotte, 
that  I  came  to  you  the  first  moment  it  has  been  made  known 
to  me.  I  never  suspected  it  before  this  day." 


308  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"Nothing  would  prompt  me  to  disbelieve  that."  She 
reached  him  her  hand. 

"  You  have  known  it !  "  he  broke  from  a  short  silence. 

«  Yes  —  never  mind  how.  I  could  not  allude  to  it.  Of 
course  I  had  to  wait  till  you  took  the  initiative." 

The  impulse  to  think  the  best  of  what  we  are  on  the 
point  of  renouncing  is  spontaneous.  If  at  the  same  time 
this  object  shall  exhibit  itself  in  altogether  new,  uiidreamt- 
of,  glorious  colours,  others  besides  a  sentimentalist  might 
waver,  and  be  in  some  danger  of  clutching  it  a  little 
tenderly  ere  it  is  cast  off. 

"  My  duty  was  to  tell  you  the  very  instant  it  came  to  my 
knowledge,"  he  said,  fascinated  in  his  heart  by  the  display 
of  greatness  of  mind  which  he  now  half  divined  to  be 
approaching,  and  wished  to  avoid. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  that  is  a  duty  between  friends  ?  "  said 
she. 

"  Between  friends  !    Shall  we  still  —  always  be  friends  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  have  said  more  than  once  that  it  won't  be  my 
fault  if  we  are  not." 

"  Because,  the  greater  and  happier  ambition  to  which  I 
aspired  ..."  This  was  what  he  designed  to  say,  senti- 
mentally propelled,  by  way  of  graceful  exit,  and  what  was 
almost  printed  on  a  scroll  in  his  head  for  the  tongue  to 
read  off  fluently.  He  stopped  at  'the  greater,'  beginning 
to  stumble  —  to  flounder;  and  fearing  that  he  said  less  than 
was  due  as  a  compliment  to  the  occasion,  he  said  more. 

By  no  means  a  quick  reader  of  character,  Lady  Charlotte 
nevertheless  perceived  that  the  man  who  spoke  in  this  fash- 
ion, after  what  she  had  confessed,  must  be  sentimentally,  if 
not  actually,  playing  double. 

Thus  she  came  to  his  assistance:  "Are  you  begging  per- 
mission to  break  our  engagement  ?  " 

"  At  least,  whatever  I  do  get  I  must  beg  for  now ! "  He 
took  refuge  adroitly  in  a  foolish  reply,  and  it  served  him. 
That  he  had  in  all  probability  lost  his  chance  by  the  method 
he  had  adopted,  and  by  sentimentalizing  at  the  wrong  mo- 
ment, was  becoming  evident,  notwithstanding.  In  a  sort  of 
despair  he  attempted  comfort  by  critically  examining  her 
features,  and  trying  to  suit  them  to  one  or  other  of  the 
numerous  models  of  Love  that  a  young  man  carries  about 


ANOTHER   PITFALL  OF   SENTIMENT  309 

with  him.  Her  eyes  met  his,  and  even  as  he  was  deciding 
against  her  on  almost  every  point,  the  force  of  their  frank- 
ness held  his  judgement  in  suspense. 

"  The  world  is  rather  harsh  upon  women  in  these  cases," 
she  said,  turning  her  head  a  little,  with  a  conscious  droop  of 
the  eyelids.  "  I  will  act  as  if  we  had  an  equal  burden  be- 
tween us.  On  my  side,  what  you  have  to  tell  me  does  not 
alter  me.  I  have  known  it.  ...  You  see  that  I  am  just 
the  same  to  you.  For  your  part,  you  are  free,  if  you  please. 
That  is  fair  dealing,  is  it  not  ?  " 

The  gentleman's  mechanical  assent  provoked  the  lady's 
smile. 

But  Wilfrid  was  torn  between  a  profound  admiration  of 
her  and  the  galling  reflection  that  until  she  had  named  the 
engagement,  none  had  virtually  existed  which  diplomacy, 
aided  by  time  and  accident,  might  not  have  stopped. 

"You  must  be  aware  that  I  am  portionless,"  she  con- 
tinued. "  I  have  —  let  me  name  the  sum  —  a  thousand 
pounds.  It  is  some  credit  to  me  that  I  have  had  it  five 
years  and  not  spent  it.  Some  men  would  think  that  a 
quality  worth  double  the  amount.  Well,  you  will  make  up 
your  mind  to  my  bringing  you  no  money  ;  —  I  have  a  few 
jewels.  En  revanche,  my  habits  are  not  expensive.  I  like 
a  horse,  but  I  can  do  without  one.  I  like  a  large  house,  and 
can  live  in  a  small  one.  I  like  a  French  cook,  and  can  dine 
comfortably  off  a  single  dish.  Society  is  very  much  to 
my  taste;  I  shall  indulge  it  when  I  am  whipped  at 
home." 

Wilfrid  took  her  hand  and  pressed  his  lips  to  the  fingers, 
keeping  his  face  ponderingly  down.  He  was  again  so  di- 
vided that  the  effort  to  find  himself  absorbed  all  his  think- 
ing faculties. 

At  last  he  muttered:  "A  lieutenant's  pay!"  — expecting 
her  to  reply,  "We  can  wait,"  as  girls  do  that  find  it  pleas- 
ant to  be  adored  by  curates.  Then  might  follow  a  meditative 
pause  —  a  short  gaze  at  her,  from  which  she  could  have  the 
option  of  reflecting  that  to  wait  is  not  the  privilege  of  those 
who  have  lived  to  acquire  patience.  The  track  he  marked 
out  was  clever  in  a  poor  way;  perhaps  it  was  not  positively 
unkind  to  instigate  her  to  look  at  her  age :  but  though  he 
read  character  shrewdly,  and  knew  hers  pretty  accurately, 


310  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

he  was  himself  too  much  of  a  straw  at  the  moment  to  be 
capable  of  leading-moves. 

"We  can  make  up  our  minds,  without  great  difficulty,  to 
regard  the  lieutenant's  pay  as  nothing  at  all,"  was  Lady 
Charlotte's  answer.  "  You  will  enter  the  Diplomatic  Ser- 
vice. My  interest  alone  could  do  that.  If  we  are  married, 
there  would  be  plenty  to  see  the  necessity  for  pushing  us. 
I  don't  know  whether  you  could  keep  the  lieutenancy;  you 
might.  I  should  not  like  you  to  quit  the  Army :  an  opening 
might  come  in  it.  There's  the  Indian  Staff  —  the  Persian 
Mission:  they  like  soldiers  for  those  Eastern  posts.  But 
we  must  take  what  we  can  get.  We  should,  anyhow,  live 
abroad,  where  in  the  matter  of  money  society  is  more  sensi- 
ble. We  should  be  able  to  choose  our  own,  and  advertize 
tea,  brioche,  and  conversation  in  return  for  the  delicacies  of 
the  season." 

"  But  you,  Charlotte  —  you  could  never  live  that  life !  " 
Wilfrid  broke  in,  the  contemplation  of  her  plain  sincerity 
diminishing  him  to  himself.  "  It  would  drag  you  down  too 
horribly ! " 

"  Remorse  at  giving  tea  in  return  for  dinners  and  balls?  " 

"Ah!  there  are  other  things  to  consider." 

She  blushed  unwontedly. 

Something,  lighted  by  the  blush,  struck  him  as  very  femi- 
nine and  noble. 

"  Then  I  may  flatter  myself  that  you  love  me  ?"  he  whis- 
pered. 

"  Do  you  not  see?  "  she  rejoined.  "  My  project  is  nothing 
but  a  whim  —  a  whim." 

The  divided  man  saw  himself  whole,  if  not  happy  in  the 
ranks  of  Diplomacy,  with  a  resolute,  frank,  faithful  woman 
(a  lady  of  title)  loving  him,  to  back  him.  Fortune  shone 
ahead,  and  on  the  road  he  saw  where  his  deficiencies  would 
be  filled  up  by  her.  She  was  firm  and  open  —  he  irresolute 
and  self-involved.  Animal  courage  both  possessed.  Their 
differences  were  so  extreme  that  they  met  where  they  dif- 
fered. It  struck  him  specially  now  that  she  would  be  like 
Day  to  his  spirit  in  continued  intercourse.  Young  as  he 
was  he  had  wisdom  to  know  the  right  meaning  of  the  word 
"helpmate."  It  was  as  if  the  head  had  dealt  the  heart  a  blow, 
saying,  "See  here  the  lady  thou  art  to  serve."  But  the 


ANOTHER   PITFALL  OF   SENTIMENT  311 

heart  was  a  surly  rebel.  Lady  Charlotte  was  fully  justified 
in  retorting  upon  his  last  question :  "  I  think  I  also  should 
ask,  do  you  love  me?  It  is  not  absolutely  imperative  for 
the  occasion  or  for  the  catastrophe,  I  merely  ask  for  what  is 
called  information." 

And  yet,  despite  her  flippancy,  which  was  partly  designed 
to  relieve  his  embarrassment,  her  hand  was  moist  and  her 
eyes  were  singularly  watchful. 

"  You  who  sneer  at  love !  "     He  gave  a  musical  murmur. 

"Not  at  all.  I  think  it  a  very  useful  part  of  the  capital 
to  begin  the  married  business  upon." 

"You  unsay  your  own  words." 

"Not  'absolutely  imperative,'  I  think  I  said,  if  I  remem- 
ber rightly." 

"But  I  take  the  other  view,  Charlotte." 

"You  imagine  that  there  must  be  a  little  bit  of  love." 

"There  should  be  no  marriage  without  it." 

"On  both  sides?" 

"  At  least,  if  not  on  both  sides,  one  should  bring  such  a 
love." 

"  Enough  for  two !  So,  then,  we  are  not  to  examine  your 
basket?" 

Touched  by  the  pretty  thing  herein  implied,  he  squeezed 
her  hand. 

"This  is  the  answer?"  said  she. 

"Can  you  doubt  me?" 

She  rose  from  her  seat.  "Oh!  if  you  talk  in  that  style, 
I  really  am  tempted  to  say  that  I  do.  Are  there  men-women 
and  women-men?  My  dear  Wilfrid,  have  we  changed  parts 
to-night?" 

His  quickness  in  retrieving  a  false  position,  outwardly, 
came  to  his  aid.  He  rose  likewise,  and,  while  perfecting 
the  minor  details  of  an  easy  attitude  against  the  mantel- 
piece, said:  "I  am  so  constituted,  Charlotte,  that  I  can't 
talk  of  my  feelings  in  a  business  tone;  and  I  avoid  that 
subject  unless  .  .  .  You  spoke  of  a  basket  just  now. 
Well,  I  confess  I  can't  bring  mine  into  the  market  and 
bawl  out  that  I  have  so  many  pounds'  weight  of  the  re- 
quired material.  Would  a  man  go  to  the  market  at  all  if 
he  had  nothing  to  dispose  of?  In  plain  words  —  since  my 
fault  appears  to  be,  according  to  your  reading,  in  the  oppo- 


312  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

s 

site  direction  —  should  I  be  here  if  my  sentiments  could  not 
reply  eloquently  to  your  question?  " 

This  very  common  masterpiece  of  cunning  from  a  man  in 
a  corner,  which  suggests  with  so  persuasive  an  air  that  he 
has  ruled  his  actions  up  to  the  very  moment  when  he  faces 
you,  and  had  almost  preconceived  the  present  occasion, 
rather  won  Lady  Charlotte;  or  it  seemed  to,  or  the  scene 
had  been  too  long  for  her  vigilance. 

"In  the  affirmative?"  she  whispered,  coming  nearer  to 
him. 

She  knew  that  she  had  only  to  let  her  right  shoulder  slip 
under  his  left  arm,  and  he  would  very  soon  proclaim  him- 
self her  lover  as  ardently  as  might  be  wished.  Why  did 
she  hesitate  to  touch  the  blood  of  the  man?  It  was  her  fate 
never  to  have  her  great  heart  read  aright.  Wilfrid  could 
not  know  that  generosity  rather  than  iciness  restrained  her 
from  yielding  that  one  unknown  kiss  which  would  have 
given  the  final  spring  to  passion  in  his  breast.  He  wanted 
the  justification  of  his  senses,  and  to  run  headlong  blindly. 
Had  she  nothing  of  a  woman's  instinct? 

"  In  the  affirmative !  "  was  his  serene  reply. 

"  That  means  '  Yes. ' ':  Her  tone  had  become  pleasantly 
soft. 

"  Yes,  that  means  <  Yes, ' "  said  he. 

She  shut  her  eyes,  murmuring,  "How  happy  are  those 
who  hear  that  they  are  loved !  "  and  opening  them,  all  her 
face  being  red,  "Say  it!"  she  pleaded.  Her  fingers  fell 
upon  his  wrist.  "I  have  this  weakness,  Wilfrid;  I  wish 
to  hear  you  say  it." 

The  flush  of  her  face,  and  tremour  of  her  fingers,  told  of 
an  unimagined  agitation  hardly  to  be  believed,  though  seen 
and  felt.  Yet,  still  some  sign,  some  shade  of  a  repulsion 
in  her  figure,  kept  him  as  far  from  her  as  any  rigid  rival 
might  have  stipulated  for. 

The  interrogation  to  the  attentive  heavens  was  partially 
framed  in  his  mind,  "  How  can  I  tell  this  woman  I  love  her, 
without  ..."  without  putting  his  arm  about  her  waist, 
and  demonstrating  it  satisfactorily  to  himself  as  well  as  to 
her?  In  other  words,  not  so  framed,  "  How,  without  that 
frenzy  which  shall  make  me  forget  whether  it  be  so  or  not?  " 

He  remained  in  his  attitude,  incapable  of  moving  or  speak- 


ANOTHER   PITFALL   OF   SENTIMENT  313 

ing,  but  fancying,  that  possibly  he  was  again  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  vanished  mountain  nymph,  sweet  Liberty. 
Her  woman's  instinct  warmed  more  and  more,  until,  if  she 
did  not  quite  apprehend  his  condition,  she  at  least  under- 
stood that  the  pause  was  one  preliminary  to  a  man's  feeling 
himself  a  fool. 

"Dear  Wilfrid,"  she  whispered,  "you  think  you  are 
doubted.  I  want  to  be  certain  that  you  think  you  have 
met  the  right  woman  to  help  you,  in  me." 

He  passed  through  the  loophole  here  indicated,  and 
breathed. 

"  Yes,  Charlotte,  I  am  sure  of  that.  If  I  could  be  only 
half  as  worthy !  You  are  full  of  courage  and  unselfishness, 
and,  I  could  swear,  faithful  as  steel." 

"  Thank  you  —  not  dogs,"  she  laughed.  "  I  like  steel.  I 
hope  to  be  a  good  sword  in  your  hand,  my  knight  —  or  shield, 
or  whatever  purpose  you  put  me  to." 

She  went  on  smiling,  and  seeming  to  draw  closer  to  him 
and  throw  down  defences. 

"  After  all,  Wilfrid,  the  task  of  loving  your  good  piece  of 
steel  won't  be  less  thoroughly  accomplished  because  you 
find  it  difficult.  Sir,  I  do  not  admit  any  protestation. 
Handsome  faces,  musical  voices,  sly  manners,  and  methods 
that  I  choose  not  to  employ,  make  the  business  easy  to 
men." 

"Who  discover  that  the  lady  is  not  steel,"  said  Wilfrid. 
"Need  she,  in  any  case,  wear  so  much  there?" 

He  pointed,  fittingly  as  it  were,  with  his  little  finger  to 
the  slope  of  her  neck. 

She  turned  her  wrist,  touching  the  spot:  "Here?  You 
have  seen,  then,  that  it  is  something  worn?  " 

There  followed  a  delicious  interplay  of  eyes.  Who  would 
have  thought  that  hers  could  be  sweet  and  mean  so  much? 

"  It  is  something  worn,  then?  And  thrown  aside  for  me 
only,  Charlotte?" 

"For  him  who  loves  me,"  she  said. 

"Forme!" 

"For  him  who  loves  me,"  she  repeated. 

"Then  it  is  for  me!" 

She  had  moved  back,  showing  a  harder  figure,  or  the  " 
love  you,  love  you!"  would  have  sounded  with  force.     It 


314  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

came,  though  not  so  vehemently  as  might  have  been,  to  the 
appeal  of  a  soft  fixed  look. 

"  Yes,  I  love  you,  Charlotte;  you  know  that  I  do." 

"You  love  me?" 

"Yes." 

"Say  it." 

"I  love  you!    Dead,  inanimate  Charlotte,  I  love  you! " 

She  threw  out  her  hand  as  one  would  throw  a  bone  to  a 
dog. 

"My  living,  breathing,  noble  Charlotte,"  he  cried,  a  little 
bewitched,  "I  love  you  with  all  my  heart!  " 

It  surprised  him  that  her  features  should  be  gradually 
expressing  less  delight. 

"  With  all  your  heart?" 

"  Could  I  give  you  a  part?  " 

"It  is  done,  sometimes,"  she  said,  mock-sadly.  Then, 
in  her  original  voice :  "  Good.  I  never  credited  that  story 
of  you  and  the  girl  Emilia.  I  suppose  what  people  say  is 
a  lie?  " 

Her  eyes,  in  perfect  accordance  with  the  tone  she  had 
adopted,  set  a  quiet  watch  on  him. 

"Who  says  it?"  he  thundered,  just  as  she  anticipated. 

"It's  not  true?" 

" Not  true !  —  how  can  it  be  true?  " 

"You  never  loved  Emilia  Belloni?  —  don't  love  her  now? 
—  do  not  love  her  now?  If  you  have  ever  said  that  you 
love  Emilia  Belloni,  recant,  and  you  are  forgiven;  and 
then  go,  for  I  think  I  hear  Georgiana  below.  Quick!  I 
am  not  acting.  It's  earnest.  The  word,  if  you  please,  as 
you  are  a  gentleman.  Tell  me,  because  I  have  heard  tales. 
I  have  been  perplexed  about  you.  I  am  sure  you're  a  manly 
fellow,  who  would  never  have  played  tricks  with  a  girl  you 
were  bound  to  protect ;  but  you  might  have  —  pardon  the 
slang  —  spooned, — who  knows?  You  might  have  been  in 
love  with  her  downright.  No  harm,  even  if  a  trifle  foolish; 
but  in  the  present  case,  set  my  mind  at  rest.  Quick !  There 
are  both  my  hands.  Take  them,  press  them,  and  speak." 

The  two  hands  were  taken,  but  his  voice  was  not  so  much 
at  command.  No  image  of  Emilia  rose  in  his  mind  to 
reproach  him  with  the  casting  over  of  his  heart's  dear  mis- 
tress, but  a  blind  struggle  went  on.  It  seemed  that  he  could 


EMILIA'S  FLIGHT  315 

do  what  he  dared  not  utter.  The  folly  of  lips  more  loyal 
than  the  spirit  touched  his  lively  perception ;  and  as  the  hot 
inward  struggle,  masked  behind  his  softly -play  ing  eyes,  had 
reduced  his  personal  consciousness  so  that  if  he  spoke  from 
his  feeling  there  was  a  chance  of  his  figuring  feebly,  he 
put  on  his  ever-ready  other  self :  — 

"  Categorically  I  reply :  Have  I  loved  Miss  Emilia  Bel- 
loni?  — No.  Do  I?  — No.  Do  I  love  Charlotte  Chilling- 
worth?  —  Yes,  ten  thousand  times !  And  now  let  Britomart 
disarm." 

He  sought  to  get  his  reward  by  gentle  muscular  persuasion. 
Her  arms  alone  yielded :  and  he  judged  from  the  angle  of 
the  neck,  ultra-sharp  though  it  was,  that  her  averted  face 
might  be  her  form  of  exhibiting  maidenly  reluctance,  femi- 
nine modesty.  Suddenly  the  fingers  in  his  grasp  twisted, 
and  not  being  at  once  released,  she  turned  round  to  him. 

"For  God's  sake,  spare  the  girl!  " 

Emilia  stood  in  the  doorway. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 
EMILIA'S  FLIGHT 

A  KNOCK  at  Merthyr's  chamber  called  him  out  while  he 
sat  writing  to  Marini  on  the  national  business.  He  heard 
Georgiana's  voice  begging  him  to  come  to  her  quickly. 
When  he  saw  her  face  the  stain  of  tears  was  there. 

"Anything  the  matter  with  Charlotte?"  was  his  first 
question. 

"  No.  But,  come :  I  will  tell  you  on  the  way.  Do  not 
look  at  me." 

"No  personal  matter  of  any  kind?  " 

"Oh,  no!  I  can  have  none;"  and  she  took  his  hand  for 
a  moment. 

They  passed  into  the  dark  windy  street  smelling  of  the 
sea. 

"Emilia  is  here,"  said  Georgiana.  "I  want  you  to  per- 
suade her  —  you  will  have  influence  with  her.  Oh,  Merthyr! 


316  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

my  darling  brother!  I  thank  God  I  love  my  brother  with 
all  my  love !  What  a  dreadful  thing  it  is  for  a  woman  to 
love  a  man." 

"I  suppose  it  is,  while  she  has  nothing  else  to  do,"  said 
Merthyr.  "  How  did  she  come  ?  —  why  ?  " 

"  If  you  had  seen  Emilia  to-night,  you  would  have  felt  that 
the  difference  is  absolute."  Georgiana  dealt  first  with  the 
general  case.  "She  came,  I  think,  by  some  appointment." 

"  Also  just  as  absolute  between  her  and  her  sex,"  he  re- 
joined, controlling  himself,  not  to  be  less  cool.  "What  has 
happened  ?  " 

Georgiana  pointed  to  the  hotel  whither  their  steps  were 
bent.  "  That  is  where  Charlotte  sleeps.  Her  going  there 
was  not  a  freak ;  she  had  an  object.  She  wished  to  cure 
Emilia  of  her  love  for  Mr.  Wilfrid  Pole.  Emilia  had  come 
down  to  see  him.  Charlotte  put  her  in  an  adjoining  room  to 
hear  him  say — what  I  presume  they  do  say  when  the  fit  is 
on  them !  Was  it  not  singular  folly  ?  " 

It  was  a  folly  that  Merthyr  could  not  understand  in  his 
friend  Charlotte.  He  said  so,  and  then  he  gave  a  kindly 
sad  exclamation  of  Emilia's  name. 

"  You  do  pity  her  still ! "  cried  Georgiana,  her  heart  leap- 
ing to  hear  it  expressed  so  simply. 

"  Why,  what  other  feeling  can  I  have  ?  "  said  he  unsus- 
piciously. 

"  No,  dear  Merthyr,"  she  replied ;  and  only  by  her  tone 
he  read  the  guilty  little  rejoicing  in  her  heart,  marvelling  at 
jealousy  that  could  twist  so  straight  a  stem  as  his  sister's 
spirit.  This  had  taught  her,  who  knew  nothing  of  love, 
that  a  man  loving  does  not  pity  in  such  a  case." 

"  I  hope  you  will  find  her  here  : "  Georgiana  hurried  her 
steps.  "  Say  anything  to  comfort  her.  I  will  have  her  with 
me,  and  try  and  teach  her  what  self-control  means,  and  how 
it  is  to  be  won.  If  ever  she  can  act  on  the  stage  as  she  spoke 
to-night,  she  will  be  a  great  dramatic  genius.  She  was 
transformed.  She  uses  strange  forcible  expressions  that  one 
does  not  hear  in  every-day  life.  She  crushed  Charlotte  as 
if  she  had  taken  her  up  in  one  hand,  and  without  any  dis- 
play at  all :  no  gesture,  or  spasm.  I  noticed,  as  they  stood 
together,  that  there  is  such  a  contrast  between  animal  cour- 
age and  imaginative  fire." 


EMILIA'S  FLIGHT  817 

"  Charlotte  could  meet  a  great  occasion,  I  should  think," 
said  Merthyr ;  and,  taking  his  sister  by  the  elbow :  "  You 
speak  as  if  you  had  observed  very  coolly.  Did  Emilia  ieave 
you  so  cold  ?  Did  she  seem  to  speak  from  head,  not  from 
heart?" 

"  No ;  she  moved  me  —  poor  child !  Only,  how  humiliat- 
ing to  hear  her  beg  for  love  !  —  before  us." 

Merthyr  smiled :  "  I  thought  it  must  be  the  woman's  feel- 
ing that  would  interfere  to  stop  a  natural  emotion.  Is  it 
true  —  or  did  I  not  see  that  certain  eyes  were  red  just  now  ?  " 

"That  was  for  him,"  said  Georgiana,  hastily.  "I  am 
sure  that  no  man  has  stood  in  such  a  position  as  he  did.  To 
see  a  man  made  publicly  ashamed,  and  bearing  it.  I  have 
never  had  to  endure  so  painful  a  sight." 

"To  stand  between  two  women,  claimed  by  both,  like 
Solomon's  babe !  A  man  might  as  well  at  once  have  Solo- 
mon's judgement  put  into  execution  upon  him.  You  wept 
for  him !  Do  you  know,  Georgey,  that  charity  of  your  sex, 
which  makes  you  cry  at  any  '  affecting  situation,'  must  have 
been  designed  to  compensate  to  us  for  the  severities  of 
Providence." 

"  No,  Merthyr ; "  she  arrested  his  raillery.  "  Do  I  ever 
cry?  But  I  thought  —  if  it  had  been  my  brother!  and 
almost  at  the  thought  I  felt  the  tears  rush  at  my  eyelids,  as 
if  the  shame  had  been  mine." 

"The  probability  of  its  not  being  your  brother  seemed 
distant  at  the  moment,"  said  Merthyr,  with  his  half-melan- 
choly smile.  "  Tell  me  —  I  can  conjure  up  the  scene :  but  tell 
me  whether  you  saw  more  passions  than  one  in  her  face  ?  " 

"  Emilia's  ?  No.  Her  face  reminded  me  of  the  sombre 
—  that  dull  glow  of  a  fire  that  you  leave  burning  in  the 
grate  late  on  winter  nights.  Was  that  natural  ?  It  struck 
me  that  her  dramatic  instinct  was  as  much  alive  as  her 
passion." 

"  Had  she  been  clumsy,  would  you  not  have  been  less  sus- 
picious of  her  ?  And  if  she  had  only  shown  the  accustomed 
northern  retenue,  and  merely  looked  all  that  she  had  to  say 
— '  preserved  her  dignity '  —  our  womanly  critic  would  have 
been  completely  satisfied." 

"  But,  Merthyr,  to  parade  her  feelings,  and  then  to  go  on 
appealing ! " 


318  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

"  On  the  principle  that  she  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  them, 
she  was  wrong." 

"  If  you  had  heard  her  utter  abandonment ! " 

"  I  can  believe  that  she  did  not  blush." 

"  It  seems  to  me  to  belong  to  those  excesses  that  prompt 
—  that  are  in  themselves  a  species  of  suicide." 

"  Love  is  said  to  be  the  death  of  self." 

"  No ;  but  I  must  use  cant  words,  Merthyr ;  I  do  wish  to 
see  modesty.  Yes,  I  know  I  must  be  right." 

"  There  is  very  little  of  it  to  be  had  in  a  tropical  storm." 

"  You  admit,  then,  that  this  sort  of  love  is  a  storm  that 
passes  ?  " 

"  It  passes,  I  hope." 

"  But  where  is  your  defence  of  her  now  ?  " 

"  Have  I  defended  her  ?  I  need  not  try.  A  man  has  de- 
ceived her,  and  she  doesn't  think  it  possible  ;  and  has  said 
so,  I  presume.  When  she  sees  it,  she  will  be  quieter  than 
most.  She  will  not  reproach  him  subsequently.  Here  is  the 
hotel,  and  that  must  be  Charlotte's  room,  if  I  may  judge  by 
the  lights.  What  pranks  will  she  always  be  playing !  We 
seem  to  have  brought  new  elements  into  the  little  town.  Do 
you  remember  Bergamo  the  rainy  night  the  Austrian  trooped 
out  of  Milan  ?  —  one  light  that  was  a  thousand  in  the  twin- 
kling of  an  eye ! " 

Having  arrived,  he  ran  hastily  up  to  the  room,  expecting 
to  find  the  three ;  but  Lady  Charlotte  was  alone,  sitting  in 
her  chair  with  knotted  arms.  "  Ah,  Merthyr ! "  she  said, 
"I'm  sorry  you  should  have  been  disturbed.  I  perceive 
what  Georgey's  leaving  the  room  meant.  I  suppose  the 
hotel  people  are  used  to  yachting-parties."  And  then,  not 
seeing  any  friendly  demonstration  on  his  part,  she  folded 
her  arms  in  another  knot.  Georgiana  asked  where  Emilia 
•was.  Lady  Charlotte  replied  that  Emilia  had  gone,  and 
then  Wilfrid  had  followed  her,  one  minute  later,  to  get  her 
into  shelter  somewhere.  "  Or  put  penknives  out  of  her 
way.  I  am  rather  fatigued  with  a  scene,  Merthyr.  I  never 
had  an  idea  before  of  what  your  Southern  women  were. 
One  plays  decidedly  second  to  them  while  the  fit  lasts.  Of 
course,  you  have  a  notion  that  I  planned  the  whole  of  the 
absurd  business.  This  is  the  case :  —  I  found  the  girl  on 
the  beach:  she  follows  him  everywhere,  which  is  bad  for 


EMILIA'S  FLIGHT  319 

her  reputation,  because  in  this  climate  people  suspect  posi- 
tive reasons  for  that  kind  of  female  devotedness.  So,  to 
put  an  end  to  it  —  really  for  her  own  sake,  quite  as  much 
as  anything  else  —  am  I  a  monster  of  insensibility,  Merthyr  ? 
—  I  made  her  swear  an  oath :  one  must  be  a  point  above 
wild  animals  to  feel  that  to  be  binding,  however !  I  made 
her  swear  to  listen  and  remain  there  silent  till  I  opened  the 
door  to  set  her  at  liberty.  She  consented  —  gave  her  word 
solemnly.  I  calculated  that  she  might  faint,  and  fixed  her 
in  an  arm-chair.  Was  that  cruel  ?  Merthyr,  you  have 
called  me  Austrian  more  than  once ;  but,  upon  my  honour, 
I  wanted  her  to  get  over  her  delusion  comfortably.  I 
thought  she  would  have  kept  the  oath,  I  confess;  she 
looked  up  like  a  child  when  she  was  making  it.  You  have 
heard  the  rest  from  Georgey.  I  must  say  the  situation  was 
rather  hard  on  Wilfrid.  If  he  blames  me  it  will  be  excuse- 
able,  though  what  I  did  plan  was  to  save  him  from  a  situa- 
tion somewhat  worse.  So  now  you  know  the  whole, 
Merthyr.  Commence  your  lecture.  Make  me  a  martyr  to 
the  sorrows  of  Italy  once  more." 

Merthyr  took  her  wrist,  feeling  the  quick  pulse,  and 
dropped  it.  She  was  effectually  humbled  by  this  direct 
method  of  dealing  with  her  secret  heart.  After  some  com- 
monplace remarks  had  passed,  she  herself  urged  him  to 
send  out  men  in  search  for  Emilia,  Before  he  went,  she 
murmured  a  soft  "Forgive  me."  The  pressure  of  her 
fingers  was  replied  to,  but  the  words  were  not  spoken. 

"There,"  she  cried  to  Georgiana,  "I  have  offended  the 
only  man  for  whose  esteem  I  care  one  particle!  Devote 
yourself  to  your  friends  !  " 

"How?  —  'devote  yourself!"  murmured  Georgiana, 
astonished. 

"  Do  you  think  I  should  have  got  into  this  hobble  if  1 
hadn't  wished  to  serve  some  one  else?  You  must  have 
seen  that  Merthyr  has  a  sentimental  sort  of  fondness  —  call 
it  passion — for  this  girl.  She's  his  Italy  in  the  flesh.  Is 
there  a  more  civilized  man  in  the  world  than  Merthyr  ?  So 
he  becomes  fascinated  by  a  savage.  We  all  play  the  game 
of  opposites  —  or  like  to,  and  no  woman  in  his  class  will 
ever  catch  him.  I  couldn't  have  believed  that  he  was 
touched  by  a  girl,  but  for  two  or  three  recent  indications. 


320  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

You  must  have  noticed  that  he  has  given  up  reading  others, 
and  he  objected  the  other  day  to  a  responsible  office  which 
would  have  thrown  him  into  her  neighbourhood  alone. 
These  are  umnistakeable  signs  in  Merthyr,  though  he  has 
never  been  in  love,  and  doesn't  understand  his  case  a  bit. 
Tell  me,  do  you  think  it  impossible  ?  " 

Georgiana  answered  dryly,  "  You  have  fallen  into  a  fresh 
mistake." 

"  Exactly.  Then  let  me  rescue  you  from  a  similar  fatal- 
ity, Georgey.  If  your  eyes  are  bandaged  now  .  .  ." 

"  Are  you  going  to  be  devoted  to  me  also,  Charlotte  ?  " 

"  I  believe  I'm  a  miracle  of  devotion,"  said  the  lady,  re- 
tiring into  indifferent  topics  upon  that  phrase.  She  had  at 
any  rate  partially  covered  the  figure  of  ridicule  presented  to 
her  feminine  imagination  by  the  aspect  of  her  fair  self 
exposed  in  public  contention  with  one  of  her  sex  —  and  for  a 
man.  It  was  enough  to  make  her  pulse  and  her  brain  lively. 
On  second  thoughts,  too,  it  had  struck  her  that  she  might  be 
serving  Merthyr  in  disengaging  Emilia;  and  undoubtedly 
she  served  Georgiana  by  giving  her  a  warning.  Through  this 
silliness  went  the  current  of  a  clear  mind,  nevertheless.  The 
lady's  heart  was  justified  in  crying  out :  "  What  would  I  not 
abandon  for  my  friend  in  his  need  ?  "  Meantime  her  battle 
in  her  own  behalf  looked  less  pleasing  by  the  light  of  new 
advantages.  The  question  recurred :  "  Shall  I  care  to  win  at 
all  ?  "  She  had  to  force  the  idea  of  a  violent  love  to  excuse 
her  proceedings.  To  get  up  any  flame  whatsoever,  an  occa- 
sional blast  of  jealousy  had  to  be  called  for.  Jealousy  was  a 
quality  she  could  not  admit  as  possible  to  her.  So  she  acted 
on  herself  by  an  agent  she  repudiated,  and  there  was  no  help 
for  it.  Had  Wilfrid  loved  her  the  woman's  heart  was  ready. 
It  was  ready  with  a  trembling  tenderness,  softer  and  deeper 
than  a  girl's.  For  Charlotte  would  have  felt :  "  With  this 
love  that  I  have  craved  for,  you  give  me  life."  And  she 
would  have  thanked  him  for  both,  exultingly,  to  feel :  "  I 
can  repay  you  as  no  girl  could  do ; "  though  she  had  none 
of  the  rage  of  love  to  give ;  as  it  was,  she  thought  con- 
scientiously that  she  could  help  him.  She  liked  him :  his 
peculiar  suppleness  of  a  growing  mind,  his  shrouded  sensi- 
bility, in  conjunction  with  his  reputation  for  an  evi- 
dently quite  reliable  prompt  courage,  and  the  mask  he 


EMILIA'S  FLIGHT  821 

wore,  which  was  to  her  transparent,  pleased  her  and  touched 
her  fancy. 

Nor  was  he  so  vain  of  his  person  as  to  make  him  seem 
like  a  boy  to  her.  He  affected  maturity.  He  could  pass  a 
mirror  on  his  right  or  his  left  without  an  abstracted  look 
over  either  shoulder ;  —  a  poor  example,  but  worth  something 
to  a  judge  of  young  men.  Indeed,  had  she  chosen  from  a 
crowd,  the  choice  would  have  been  one  of  his  age.  She  was 
too  set  for  an  older  man ;  but  a  youth  aspiring  to  be  older 
than  he  was ;  whose  faults  she  saw  and  forgave ;  whose 
merits  supplied  two  or  three  of  her  own  deficiencies ;  whom 
her  station  might  help  to  elevate  ;  to  whom  she  might  come 
as  a  benefactress ;  feeling  so  while  she  accomplished  her  own 
desire ;  —  such  a  youth  was  everything  to  her,  as  she  awoke 
to  discover  after  having  played  with  him  a  season.  If  she 
lost  him,  what  became  of  her  ?  Even  if  she  had  rejoiced 
in  a  mother  to  plot  and  play,  —  to  bait  and  snare  for  her, 
her  time  was  slipping,  and  the  choosers  among  her  class  were 
wary.  Her  spirit,  besides,  was  high  and  elective.  It  was 
gradually  stooping  to  nature,  but  would  never  have  bowed 
to  a  fool,  or,  save  under  protest,  to  one  who  gave  all.  On 
Wilfrid  she  had  fixed  her  mind :  so,  therefore,  she  bore  the 
remembrance  of  the  recent  scene  without  much  fretting  at 
her  burdens ;  —  the  more,  that  Wilfrid  had  in  no  way  shamed 
her ;  and  the  more,  that  the  heat  of  Emilia's  love  played 
round  him  and  illumined  him.  This  borrowing  of  the  passion 
of  another  is  not  uncommon. 

At  daybreak  Mrs.  Chump  was  abroad.  She  had  sat  up  for 
Wilfrid  almost  through  the  night.  "  Oh !  the  arr'stocracy ! ' 
she  breathed  exclamations,  as  she  swept  along  the  esplanade. 
"I'll  be  killed  and  murdered  if  I  tell  a  word."  Meeting 
Captain  Gambier,  she  fell  into  a  great  agitation,  and  explained 
it  as  an  anxiety  she  entertained  for  Wilfrid ;  when,  becoming 
entangled  in  the  mesh  of  questions,  she  told  all  she  knew,  and 
nearly  as  much  as  she  suspected :  which  fatal  step  to  retrieve, 
she  entreated  his  secresy.  Adela  was  now  seen  fluttering 
hastily  up  the  walk,  fresh  as  a  creature  of  the  sea-wave. 
Before  Mrs.  Chump  could  summon  her  old  wrath  of  yester- 
day, she  was  kissed,  and  to  the  arch  interrogation  as  to  what 
she  had  done  with  this  young  lady's  brother,  replied  by  tell- 
ing the  tale  of  the  night  again.  Mrs.  Chump  was  ostenta- 


322  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

tiously  caressed  into  a  more  comfortable  opinion  of  the  world's 
morality,  for  the  nonce.  Invited  by  them  to  breakfast  at  the 
hotel,  she  hurried  back  to  her  villa  for  a  flounced  dress  and 
a  lace  cap  of  some  pretensions,  while  they  paced  the  shore. 

"  See  what  may  be  said ! "  Adela's  countenance  changed  as 
she  muttered  it.  "  Thought,  would  be  enough,"  she  added, 
shuddering. 

"  Yes  ;  if  one  is  off  guard  —  careless,"  the  captain  assented, 
flowingly. 

"  Can  one  in  earnest  be  other  than  careless  ?  I  shall  walk 
on  that  line  up  to  the  end.  Who  makes  me  deviate  is  my 
enemy ! " 

The  playful  little  person  balanced  herself  to  make  one  foot 
.follow  the  other  along  a  piece  of  washed  grey  rope  on  the 
shingle.  Soon  she  had  to  stretch  out  her  hand  for  help,  and 
the  captain  at  full  arm's  length  conducted  her  to  the  final 
knot. 

"  Arrived  safe  ! "  she  said,  smiling. 

"  But  not  disengaged,"  he  rejoined,  in  similar  style. 

"  Please  ! "  She  doubled  her  elbow  to  give  a  little  tug  for 
her  fingers. 

"  No."     He  pressed  them  tighter. 

"Pray?" 

"No." 

"  Must  I  speak  to  somebody  else  to  get  me  released  ?  " 

"Would  you?" 

"Must  I?" 

"  Thank  heaven,  he  is  not  yet  in  existence ! " 

'  Husband '  being  implied.  Games  of  this  sweet  sort  are 
warranted  to  carry  little  people  as  far  as  they  may  go 
swifter  than  any  other  invention  of  lively  Satan. 

The  yachting  party,  including  Mrs.  Chump,  were  at  the 
breakfast-table,  and  that  dumb  guest  had  done  all  the  blush- 
ing for  Lady  Charlotte,  when  Wilfrid  entered,  neat,  carefully 
brushed,  and  with  ready  answers,  though  his  face  could  put 
on  no  fresh  colours.  To  Mrs.  Chump  he  bent,  passing,  and 
was  pushed  away  and  drawn  back.  "  Your  eyes ! "  she 
whispered. 

"  My — yeyes ! "  went  Wilfrid,  in  schoolboy  style;  and  she, 
who  rarely  laughed,  was  struck  by  his  humorous  skill,  saying 
to  Sir  Twickenham,  beside  her :  "  He's  as  cunnin'  as  a  lord ! " 


EMILIA'S  FLIGHT  328 

•Sir  Twickenham  expressed  his  ignorance  of  lords  having 
usurped  priority  in  that  department.  Frightened  by  his 
portentous  parliamentary  phraseology,  she  remained  toler- 
ably demure  till  the  sitting  was  over :  now  sidling  in  her 
heart  to  the  sins  of  the  great,  whom  anon  she  angrily  re- 
proached. Her  principal  idea  was,  that  as  the  world  was 
discovered  to  be  so  wicked,  they  were  all  in  a  boat  going  to 
perdition,  and  it  would  be  as  well  to  jump  out  immediately : 
but  while  so  resolving,  she  hung  upon  Lady  Charlotte's  looks 
and  little  speeches,  altogether  seduced  by  so  fresh  and  frank 
a  sinner.  If  safe  from  temptation,  here  was  the  soul  of  a 
woman  in  great  danger  of  corruption. 

"  Among  the  aristocracy,"  thought  Mrs.  Chump,  "  it's  just 
the  male  that  hangs  his  head,  and  the  female  struts  and 
is  sprightly."  The  contrast  between  Lady  Charlotte  and 
Wilfrid  (who  when  he  ceased  to  act  outrageously,  sat  like  a 
man  stricken  by  a  bolt),  produced  this  reflection:  and  in 
spite  of  her  disastrous  vision  of  the  fate  of  the  boat  they 
were  in,  Mrs.  Chump  owned  to  the  intoxication  of  gliding 
smoothly  —  gliding  on  the  rapids. 

The  breakfast  was  coming  to  an  end,  when  Braintop's 
name  was  sent  in  to  Mrs.  Chump.  She  gave  a  cry  of 
motherly  compassion  for  Braintop,  and  began  to  relate  the 
little  deficiencies  of  his  temper,  while,  as  it  were,  simmering 
on  her  seat  to  go  to  him.  Wilfrid  sent  out  word  for  him  to 
appear,  which  he  did,  unluckily  for  himself,  even  as  Mrs. 
Chump  wound  up  the  public  description  of  his  character  by 
remarking:  "He's  just  the  opposite  of  a  lord,  now,  in 
everything."  Braintop  stood  bowing  like  the  most  faithful 
confirmation  of  an  opinion  ever  seen.  He  looked  the  victim 
of  fatigue,  in  the  bargain.  A  light  broke  on  Mrs.  Chump. 
"  I'll  never  forgive  myself,  ye  poor  gentle  heart,  to  throw 
pens  and  pen-wipers  at  ye,  that  did  your  best,  poor  boy! 
What  have  ye  been  doin'  ?  and  why  didn't  ye  return,  and 
not  go  hoppin'  about  about  all  night  like  a  young  kangaroo, 
as  they  say  they  do  ?  Have  ye  read  the  'Arcana  of  Nature 
and  Science,'  ma'am  ?  " 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Bayruffle,  thus  abruptly  addressed,  observed 
that  she  had  not,  and  was  it  an  amusing  book  ? 

"Becas  it'll  open  your  mind,"  pursued  Mrs.  Chump; 
"  and  there,  he's  eatin' !  and  when  a  man  takes  to  eatin'. 


324  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

ye'll  naver  have  army  fear  about  his  abouts.  And  if  ye  read 
the  '  Arcana  of  Nature  and  Science,'  ma'am,  ye'll  first  feel 
that  ye've  gone  half  mad.  For  it  contains  averything  in  the 
world;  and  ye'll  read  ut  ten  times  all  through,  and  not 
remember  five  lines  runnin' !  Oh,  it's  a  dreadful  book :  and 
that's  the  book  to  read  to  your  husband  when  he's  got  a  fit 
o'  the  gout.  He's  got  nothin'  to  do  but  swallow  knolludge 
then.  Now,  Mr.  Braintop,  don't  stop,  but  tell  me  as  ye  go 
on  what  ye  did  with  yourself  all  night." 

A  slight  hesitation  in  Braintop  caused  her  to  cross- 
examine  him  rigidly,  suggesting  that  he  might  not  dare  to 
tell,  and  he,  exercising  some  self-command,  adopted  narra- 
tive as  the  less  ignominious  form  of  confession.  No  one 
save  Mrs.  Chump  listened  to  him  until  he  mentioned  the 
name  Miss  Belloni ;  and  then  it  was  curious  to  see  the  steadi- 
ness with  which  certain  eyes,  feigning  abstraction,  fixed  in 
his  direction.  He  had  met  Emilia  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
town,  and  unable  to  persuade  her  to  take  shelter  anywhere, 
had  walked  on  with  her  in  dead  silence  through  the  night, 
to  the  third  station  of  the  railway  for  London. 

"  Is  this  a  mad  person  ?  "  asked  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Bayruffle. 

Adela  shrugged.     "  A  genius." 

"  Don't  eat  with  the  tips  of  your  teeth,  like  a  bird,  Mr. 
Braintop,  for  no  company  minds  your  eatin',"  cried  Mrs. 
Chump,  angrily  and  encouragingly ;  "  and  this  little  Belloni 
—  my  belief  is  that  she  came  after  you ;  and  what  have  ye 
done  with  her  ?  " 

It  was  queerly  worried  out  of  Braintop,  who  was  trying 
his  best  all  the  time  to  be  obedient  to  Wilfrid's  direct  eye, 
that  the  two  wanderers  by  night  had  lost  themselves  in 
lanes,  refreshed  themselves  with  purloined  apples  from  the 
tree  at  dawn,  obtained  a  draught  of  morning  milk,  with  a 
handful  of  damsons  apiece,  and  that  nothing  would  persuade 
Emilia  to  turn  back  from  the  route  to  London.  Braintop 
bit  daintily  at  his  toast,  unwilling  to  proceed  under  the  dis- 
couraging expression  of  Wilfrid's  face,  and  the  meditative 
silence  of  two  or  three  others.  The  discovery  was  forcibly 
extracted  that  Emilia  had  no  money ;  —  that  all  she  had  in 
her  possession  was  sevenpence  and  a  thimble ;  and  that  he, 
Braintop,  had  but  a  few  shillings,  which  she  would  not 
accept. 


EMILIA'S  FLIGHT  826 

"  And  what  has  become  of  her  ?  "  was  asked. 

Braintop  stated  that  she  had  returned  to  London,  and 
blushing,  confessed  that  he  had  given  her  his  return  ticket 

Georgiana  here  interposed  to  save  him  from  the  awful 
encomiums  of  Mrs.  Chump,  by  desiring  to  know  whether 
Emilia  seemed  unhappy  or  distressed.  Braintop's  spirited 
reply,  "  Not  at  all,"  was  corrected  to :  "  She  did  not  cry  • " 
and  further  modified :  "That  is,  she  called  out  sharply  when 
I  whistled  an  opera  tune." 

Lady  Charlotte  put  a  stop  to  the  subject  by  rising  point- 
edly. Watch  in  hand,  she  questioned  the  ladies  as  to  their 
occupations,  and  told  them  what  time  they  had  to  rliipcmi 
of.  Then  Baynes,  captain  of  the  yacht,  heard  to  be  outside, 
was  summoned  in.  He  pronounced  doubtfully  about  the 
weather,  but  admitted  that  there  was  plenty  of  wind,  and 
if  the  ladies  did  not  mind  it  a  little  fresh,  he  was  sure  he 
did  not.  Wind  was  favourable  for  the  island  head-quarters 
of  the  yacht.  "We'll  see  who  gets  there  first,"  she  said  to 
Wilfrid,  and  the  company  learnt  that  Wilfrid  was  going  to 
other  head-quarters  on  special  business,  whereupon  there 
followed  chatter  and  exclamations.  Wilfrid  quickly  ex- 
plained that  his  father's  condition  called  him  away  imperi- 
ously. To  Adela  and  Mrs.  Chump,  demanding  peculiar 
personal  explanations,  he  gave  reassuring  reasons  separately, 
aside.  Mrs.  Chump  understood  that  this  was  merely  his 
excuse  to  get  away,  that  he  might  see  her  safe  to  Brook- 
field.  Adela  only  required  a  look  and  a  gesture.  Merthyr 
and  Georgiana  likewise  spoke  expected  adieux,  as  did  Sir 
Twickenham,  who  parted  company  in  his  own  little  yawl. 
Lady  Charlotte,  with  her  head  over  a  map,  and  one  hand 
arranging  an  eye-glass,  hastily  nodded  them  off,  scarcely 
looking  at  them.  She  allowed  herself  to  be  diverted  from 
this  study  for  an  instant  by  the  unbefitting  noise  made  by 
Adela  for  the  loss  of  her  brother ;  not  that  she  objected  to 
the  noise  particularly  (it  was  modulated  and  delicate  in 
tone),  but  that  she  could  not  understand  it  Seeing  Sir 
Twickenham,  however,  in  a  leave-taking  attitude,  she  uttered 
an  easy  "  Oh ! "  to  herself,  and  diligently  recommenced  spy- 
ing at  ports  and  harbours,  and  following  the  walnut  thumb 
of  Baynes  on  the  map.  All  seemed  to  be  perfectly  correct 
in  the  arrangements.  To  go  to  London  was  Wilfrid's 


326  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

thought ;  and  the  rest  were  almost  as  much  occupied  with 
their  own  ideas.  Captain  Gambier  received  their  semi- 
ironical  congratulations  and  condolences  incident  to  the 
man  who  is  left  alone  in  the  charge  of  sweet  ladies ;  and 
the  Hon.  Mrs.  Bayruffle  remarked,  that  she  supposed  ten 
tiours  not  a  long  period  of  time,  though  her  responsibility 
was  onerous. 

"  Lady  Gosstre  is  at  the  island,"  said  Lady  Charlotte,  to 
show  where  it  might  end,  if  she  pleased.  Within  an  hour 
the  yacht  was  flying  for  the  island  with  a  full  Western 
breeze:  and  Mrs.  Chump  and  Wilfrid  were  speeding  to 
Brookfield,  as  the  latter  permitted  her  to  imagine.  Brain- 
top  realized  the  fruits  of  the  sacrifice  of  his  return  ticket  by 
facing  Mrs.  Chump  in  the  train.  Merthyr  had  telegraphed 
to  Marini  to  meet  Emilia  at  the  station  in  London,  and  in- 
structed Braintop  to  deliver  a  letter  for  her  at  Marini's 
house.  To  Marini  he  wrote :  "  Let  Giulia  guard  her  as  no 
one  but  a  woman  can  in  such  a  case.  By  this  time  Giulia 
will  know  her  value.  There  is  dangerous  stuff  in  her  now, 
and  my  anxiety  is  very  great.  Have  you  seen  what  a 
nature  it  is  ?  You  have  not  alluded  to  her  beyond  answers 
to  instructions,  but  her  character  cannot  have  escaped  you. 
I  am  never  mistaken  in  my  estimates  of  Italian  and  Cymric 
blood.  Singularly,  too,  she  is  part  Welsh  on  the  mother's 
side,  to  judge  by  the  name.  Leave  her  mind  entirely  free 
till  it  craves  openly  for  some  counteraction.  Her  Italy  and 
her  music  will  not  do.  Let  them  be.  My  fear  is  that  you 
have  seen  too  clearly  what  a  daughter  of  Italy  I  have  found 
for  you.  But  whatever  you  put  up  now  to  distract  her,  you 
sacrifice.  My  good  Marini !  bear  that  in  mind.  It  will  be 
a  disgust  in  her  memory,  and  I  wish  her  to  love  her  country 
and  her  Art  when  she  recovers.  So  we  treat  the  disease, 
dear  friend.  Let  your  Italy  have  no  sorrows  for  her 
ears  till  the  storm  within  is  tranquil.  I  am  with  you 
speedily." 

Marini's  reply  said :  "  Among  all  the  things  we  have  to 
thank  our  Merthyr  for,  this  treasure,  if  it  is  not  the  greatest 
he  has  given  to  us,  makes  us  grateful  the  most.  We  met 
her  at  the  station.  Ah  !  there  was  an  elbow  when  she  gave 
her  hand.  She  thought  to  be  alone,  and  started,  and  hated, 
till  Giulia  smothered  her  face.  And  there  was  dead  fire  in 


EMILIA'S  FLIGHT  327 

the  eyes,  which  is  powder  when  you  spring  it.  We  go  with 
her  to  her  new  lodging,  and  the  track  is  lost.  This  is  your 
wish  ?  It  is  pitching  new  camps  to  avoid  the  enemy.  But 
so !  a  man  takes  this  disease  and  his  common  work  at  once : 
of  a  woman — she  is  all  the  disease,  till  it  is  extinct,  or  she  I 
What  is  this  disease  but  a  silly,  a  senseless  waste  ?  <  J iuliu 

—  woman  that  she  is  !  —  will  not  call  it  so.     See  her  eyes 
doze  and  her  voice  go  a  soft  buzz  when  she  speaks  it !   As  a 
dove  of  the  woods  !     That  it  almost  makes  it  sweet  to  me  ! 
Yes,  a  daughter  of  Italy  !     So  Giulia  has  been  :  —  will  be  ? 
I  know  not !     So  will  this  your  Emilia  be  in  the  time  that 
comes  to  the  young  people,  she  has  this,  as  you  say,  malady 
very  strong  —  ma,  ogni  male  ha  la  sua  ricetta;  I  can  say  it 
of  persons.     Of  nations  to  think  my  heart  is  as  an  infidel  — 
very  heavy.     Ah !  till  I  turn  to  you  —  who  revive  to  the 
thought,  as  you  were  an  army  of  deliverance.     For  you  are 
Hope.     You  know  not  Despair.     You  are  Hope.     And  you 
love  as  myself  a  mother  whose  son  you  are  not !     '  Oh ! '  is 
Giulia's  cry,  '  will  our  Italy  reward  him  with  a  daughter  ? ' 

—  the  noblest  that  we  have.     Yes,  for  she  would  be  Italian 
always  through  you.     We  pray  that  you  may  not  get  old 
too  soon,  before  she  grows   for  you  and  is  found,  only  that 
you  may  know  in  her  our  love.     See  !  I  am  brought  to  talk 
this  language.     The  woman  is  in  me." 

Merthyr  said,  as  he  read  this,  "  I  could  wish  no  better." 
His  feeling  for  Emilia  waxed  toward  a  self-avowal  as  she 
advanced  to  womanhood ;  and  the  last  stage  of  it  had  struck 
among  trembling  strings  in  the  inmost  chambers  of  his 
heart.  That  last  stage  of  it  —  her  passionate  claiming  of 
Wilfrid  before  two  women,  one  her  rival  —  slept  like  a  cov- 
ered furnace  within  him.  "  Can  you  remember  none  of  her 
words  ?  "  he  said  more  than  once  to  Georgiana,  who  replied : 
"  I  would  try  to  give  you  an  idea  of  what  she  said,  but  I 
might  as  well  try  to  paint  lightning." 

"  '  My  lover '  ?  "  suggested  Merthyr. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  that  she  said." 

"  It  sounded  oddly  to  your  ears  ?  " 

"Very,  indeed." 

"What  more?" 

" did  she  say,  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Is  my  poor  sister  ashamed  to  repeat  it?" 


328  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

"  I  would  repeat  anything  that  would  give  you  pleasure  to 
hear." 

"  Sometimes  pain,  you  know,  is  sweet." 

Little  by  little,  and  with  a  contest  at  each  step,  G-eorgiana 
coasted  the  conviction  that  her  undivided  reign  was  over. 
Then  she  judged  Emilia  by  human  nature's  hardest  stand- 
ard :  the  measure  of  the  qualities  brought  as  usurper  and 
successor.  Unconsciously  she  placed  herself  in  the  seat  of 
one  who  had  fulfilled  all  the  great  things  demanded  of  a 
woman  for  Merthyr,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  Emilia  exer- 
cised some  fatal  fascination,  girl  though  she  was,  to  hurl  her 
from  that  happy  sovereignty. 

But  Emilia's  worst  crime  before  the  arraigning  lady  was 
that  Wilfrid  had  cast  her  off.  Female  justice,  therefore, 
said :  "  You  must  be  unworthy  of  my  brother ;  "  and  female 
delicacy  thought :  "  You  have  been  soiled  by  a  previous  his- 
tory." She  had  pitied  Wilfrid :  now  she  held  him  partially 
blameless:  and  while  love  was  throbbing  in  many  pulses 
all  round  her.  The  man  she  had  seen  besieged  by  passion- 
ate love,  touched  her  cold  imagination  with  a  hue  of  fire,  as 
Winter  dawn  lies  on  a  frosty  field.  She  almost  conceived 
what  this  other,  not  sisterly,  love  might  be ;  though  not  as 
its  victim,  by  any  means.  She  became,  as  she  had  never 
before  been,  spiritually  tormented  and  restless.  The  thought 
framed  itself  that  Charlotte  and  Wilfrid  were  not,  by  any 
law  of  selection,  to  match.  What  mattered  it?  Simply 
that  it  in  some  way  seemed  to  increase  the  merits  of  one 
of  the  two.  The  task,  moreover,  of  avoiding  to  tease  her 
brother  was  made  easier  to  her  by  flying  to  this  new  refuge 
of  mysterious  reflection.  At  times  she  poured  back  the 
whole  flood  of  her  heart  upon  Merthyr,  and  then  in  alarm  at 
the  host  of  little  passions  that  grew  cravingly  alive  in  her, 
she  turned  her  thoughts  to  Wilfrid  again ;  and  so,  till  they 
turned  wittingly  to  him.  That  this  host  of  little  passions 
will  invariably  surround  a  false  great  one,  she  learnt  by 
degrees,  by  having  to  quell  them  and  rise  out  of  them. 
She  knew  that  now  she  occasionally  forced  her  passion  for 
Merthyr ;  but  what  nothing  could  teach  her  was,  that  she 
did  so  to  eject  another's  image.  On  the  contrary,  her  con- 
fession would  have  been :  "  Voluntarily  I  dwell  upon  that 
other,  that  my  love  for  Merthyr  may  avoid  excess."  To 


EMILIA'S  FLIGHT  329 

such  a  state  of  clearness  much  self-questioning  brought  her : 
but  her  blood  was  as  yet  unwarmed ;  and  that  is  a  condition 
fostering  self-deception  as  much  as  when  it  rages. 

Madame  Marini  wrote  to  ask  whether  Emilia  might  receive 
the  visits  of  a  Sir  Purcell  Barrett,  whom  they  had  met,  and 
whom  Emilia  called  her  friend ;  adding :  "  The  other  gentle- 
man has  called  at  our  old  lodgings  three  times.  The  last  time 
our  landlady  says,  he  wept.  Is  it  an  Englishman,  really  ?  " 

Merthyr  laughed  at  this,  remarking :  "  Charlotte  is  not  so 
vigilant,  after  all." 

"  He  wept."  Georgiana  thought  and  remembered  the  cold 
self-command  that  his  face  had  shown  when  Emilia  claimed 
him,  and  his  sole  reply  was,  "  I  am  engaged  to  this  lady," 
designating  Lady  Charlotte.  Now,  too,  some  of  Emilia's 
phrases  took  life  in  her  memory.  She  studied  them,  think- 
ing over  them,  as  if  a  voice  of  nature  had  spoken.  Less  and 
less  it  seemed  to  her  that  a  woman  need -feel  shame  to 
utter  them.  She  interpreted  this  as  her  growth  of  charity 
for  a  girl  so  violently  stricken  with  love.  "  In  such  a  case, 
the  more  she  says  the  more  is  she  to  be  excused ;  for  noth- 
ing but  a  frenzy  of  passion  could  move  her  to  speak  so," 
thought  Georgiana.  Accepting  the  words,  and  sanctioning 
the  passion,  the  person  of  him  who  had  inspired  it  stood 
magnified  in  its  light.  She  believed  that  if  he  had  played 
with  the  girl,  he  repented,  and  the  idea  of  a  man  shedding 
tears  burnt  to  her  heart. 

Merthyr  and  Georgiana  remained  in  Devonshire  till  a  letter 
from  Madame  Marini  one  morning  told  them  that  Emilia  had 
disappeared. 

"  You  delayed  too  long  to  go  to  her,  Merthyr,"  said  his 
sister,  astonishing  him.  "  I  understand  why ;  but  you  may 
trust  to  time  and  scorn  chance  too  much.  Let  us  go  now 
and  find  her,  if  it  is  not  too  late." 

Marini  met  them  at  the  station  in  London,  and  they  heard 
that  Wilfrid  had  discovered  Marini's  new  abode,  and  had 
called  there  that  morning.  "  I  had  my  eye  on  him.  It  was 
not  a  piece  of  love-play,"  said  Marini :  "  and  to-day  she  should 
have  seen  my  Chief,  which  would  have  cured  her  of  sis  pes- 
tilence of  a  love,  to  give  her  sublime  thoughts.  Do  you  love 
her,  Miss  Ford?  Aha!  it  will  be  Christian  names  in  Italy 
again." 


330  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

"  I  like  her  very  much,"  said  Georgiana ;  "  but  I  confess 
it  mystifies  me  to  see  you  all  so  excited  about  her.  It  must 
be  some  attraction  possessed  by  her — what,  I  cannot  say. 
I  like  her,  certainly." 

"  Figlia  mia  !  she  is  an  element —  she  is  fire !  "  said  Marini. 
"  My  sought,  when  our  Mertyr  brought  her,  was,  it  is  Italy 
he  sees  in  her  face  —  her  voice  —  name  —  anysing!  And  a 
day  passed,  and  I  could  not  lose  her  for  my  own  sake,  and 
felt  a  somesing,  too !  She  is  half  man." 

•"  A  singular  reason  for  an  attraction."     Georgiana  smiled. 

"  She  is  not,"  Marini  put  out  his  fingers  like  claws  to  ex- 
plain, while  his  eyelashes  met  over  his  eyes  —  "  she  is  not 
what  man  has  made  of  your  sex ;  and  she  is  brave  of  heart." 

"  Can  you  possibly  tell  what  such  a  child  can  be  ?  "  ques- 
tioned Georgiana,  almost  irritably. 

Marini  did  not  reply  to  her. 

"  A  face  to  find  a  home  in !  —  eh,  Mertyr  ?  " 

"  Let's  discover  where  that  face  has  found  a  home,"  said 
Merthyr.  "  She  is  a  very  plain  and  unpretending  person,  if 
people  will  not  insist  upon  her  being  more.  This  morbid 
admiration  of  heroines  puts  a  trifle  too  much  weight  upon 
their  shoulders,  does  it  not  ?  " 

Georgiana  knew  that  to  call  Emilia  '  child '  was  to  wound 
the  most  sensitive  nerve  in  Merthyr's  system,  if  he  loved 
her,  and  she  had  determined  to  try  harshly  whether  he  did. 
Nevertheless,  though  the  expression  succeeded,  and  was  de- 
signedly cruel,  she  could  not  forgive  the  insincerity  of  his 
last  speech ;  craving  in  truth  for  confidence  as  her  smallest 
claim  on  him  now.  So,  at  all  the  consultations,  she  acqui- 
esced in  any  scheme  that  was  proposed;  the  advertizings 
and  the  use  of  detectives ;  the  communication  with  Emilia's 
mother  and  father;  and  the  callings  at  suburban  concert- 
rooms.  Sir  Purcell  Barrett  frequently  called  to  assist  in 
the  discovery.  At  first  he  led  them  to  suspect  Mr.  Pericles ; 
but  a  trusty  Italian  playing  spy  upon  that  gentleman  soon 
cleared  him,  and  they  were  more  in  the  dark  than  ever.  It 
was  only  when  at  last  Georgiana  heard  Merthyr,  the  picture 
of  polished  self-possession,  giving  way  to  a  burst  of  disap- 
pointment in  the  room  before  them  all :  "  Are  we  sure  that 
she  lives  ?  "  he  cried :  —  then  Georgiana,  looking  at  the  fire- 
light over  her  joined  fingers,  said :  — 


SHE  CLINGS   TO   HER   VOICE  881 

"  But,  have  you  forgotten  the  serviceable  brigade  you  have 
in  your  organ-boys,  Marini?  If  Emilia  sees  one,  be  sure 
she  will  speak  to  him." 

"Have  I  not  said  she  is  a  General?"  Marini  pointed 
at  Georgiana  with  a  gleam  of  his  dark  eyes,  and  Merthyr 
squeezed  his  sister's  hand,  thanking  her ;  by  which  he  gave 
her  one  whole  night  of  remorse,  because  she  had  not  spoken 
earlier. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

SHE   CLINGS   TO   HER   VOICE 

"  MY  voice !  I  have  my  voice ! " 

Emilia  had  cried  it  out  to  herself  almost  aloud,  on  the 
journey  from  Devon  to  London.  The  landscape  slipping 
under  her  eyes,  with  flashing  grey  pools  and  light  silver 
freshets,  little  glades,  little  copses,  farms,  and  meadows 
rounding  away  to  spires  of  village  churches  under  blue  hills, 
would  not  let  her  sink,  heavy  as  was  the  spirit  within  her, 
and  dead  to  everything  as  she  desired  to  be.  Here,  a  great 
strange  old  oak  spread  out  its  arms  and  seemed  to  hold  the 
hurrying  train  a  minute.  When  gone  by,  Emilia  thought, 
of  it  as  a  friend,  and  that  there,  there,  was  the  shelter  and* 
thick  darkness  she  had  hoped  she  might  be  flying  to.  Or 
the  reach  of  a  stream  was  seen,  and  in  the  middle  of  it  one 
fair  group  of  clouds,  showing  distance  beyond  distance  in 
colour.  Emilia  shut  her  sight,  and  tried  painfully  to  believe 
that  there  were  no  distances  for  her.  This  was  an  easy  task 
when  the  train  stopped.  It  was  surprising  to  her  then  why 
the  people  moved.  The  whistle  of  the  engine  and  rush  of 
the  scenery  set  her  imagination  anew  upon  the  horror  of 
being  motionless. 

"My  voice!  I  have  my  voice!"  The  exclamation  re- 
curred at  intervals,  as  a  quick  fear,  that  bubbled  up  from 
blind  sensation,  of  her  being  utterly  abandoned,  and  a  stray 
thing  carrying  no  light,  startled  her.  Darkness  she  still 
had  her  desire  for;  but  not  to  be  dark  in  the  darkness. 
She  looked  back  on  the  recent  night  as  a  lake  of  fire,  through 


332  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

which  she  had  plunged ;  and  of  all  the  faculties  about  her, 
memory  had  suffered  most,  so  that  it  could  recall  no  images 
of  what  had  happened,  but  lay  against  its  black  corner  a 
shuddering  bundle  of  nerves.  The  varying  fields  and  woods 
and  waters  offering  themselves  to  her  in  the  swiftness,  were 
as  wine  dashed  to  her  lips,  which  could  not  be  dead  to  it. 
The  wish  to  be  of  some  worth  began  a  painful  quickening 
movement.  At  first  she  could  have  sobbed  with  the  keen 
anguish  that  instantaneously  beset  her.  For  —  "If  I  am 
of  worth,  who  looks  on  me?  "  was  her  outcry,  and  the  dark- 
ness she  had  previously  coveted  fell  with  the  strength  of  a 
mace  on  her  forehead;  but  the  creature's  heart  struggled 
further,  and  by-and-by  in  despite  of  her  the  pulses  sprang 
a  clear  outlook  on  hope.  It  struck  through  her  like  the  first 
throb  of  a  sword-cut.  She  tried  to  blind  herself  to  it;  the 
face  of  hope  was  hateful. 

This  conflict  of  the  baffled  spirit  of  youth  with  its  forceful 
flood  of  being  continued  until  it  seemed  that  Emilia  was 
lifted  through  the  fiery  circles  into  daylight;  her  last  cry 
being  as  her  first :  "  I  have  my  voice !  " 

Of  that  which  her  voice  was  to  achieve  for  her  she  never 
thought.  She  had  no  thought  of  value,  but  only  an  eager- 
ness to  feel  herself  possessor  of  something.  Wilfrid  had 
appeared  to  her  to  have  taken  all  from  her,  until  the  recol- 
lection of  her  voice  made  her  breathe  suddenly  quick  and 
deep,  as  one  recovering  the  taste  of  life. 

Despair,  I  have  said  before,  is  a  wilful  business,  common 
to  corrupt  blood,  and  to  weak  woeful  minds :  native  to  the 
sentimentalist  of  the  better  order.  The  only  touch  of  it 
that  came  to  Emilia  was  when  she  attempted  to  penetrate 
to  Wilfrid's  reason  for  calling  her  down  to  Devon  that  he 
might  renounce  and  abandon  her.  She  wanted  a  reason  to 
make  him  in  harmony  with  his  acts,  and  she  could  get  none. 
This  made  the  world  look  black  to  her.  But,  "  I  have  my 
voice !  "  she  said,  exhausted  by  the  passion  of  the  night,  tear- 
less, and  only  sensible  to  pain  when  the  keen  swift  wind, 
and  the  flying  squares  of  field  and  meadow  prompted  her 
nature  mysteriously  to  press  for  healthy  action. 

A  man  opposite  to  her  ventured  a  remark:  "We're  going 
at  a  pretty  good  pace  now,  miss." 

She  turned  her  eyes  to  him,  and  the  sense  of  speed  was 


SHE  CLINGS  TO   HER   VOICE  338 

reduced  in  her  at  once,  she  could  not  comprehend  how. 
Remembering  presently  that  she  had  not  answered  him,  she 
said :  "  It  is  because  you  are  going  home,  perhaps,  that  you 
think  it  fast." 

"No,  miss,"  he  replied,  "I'm  going  to  market.  They 
can't  put  on  steam  too  stiff  for  me  when  I'm  bound  on 
business." 

Emilia  found  it  impossible  to  fathom  the  sensations  of 
the  man,  and  their  common  desire  for  speed  bewildered  her 
more.  She  was  relieved  when  the  train  was  lightened  of 
him.  Soon  the  skirts  of  red  vapour  were  visible,  and  when 
the  guard  took  poor  Braintop's  return-ticket  from  her  petu- 
lant hand,  all  of  the  journey  that  she  bore  in  mind  was  the 
sight  of  a  butcher-boy  in  blue,  with  a  red  cap,  mounted  on 
a  white  horse,  who  rode  gallantly  along  a  broad  highroad, 
and  for  whom  she  had  struck  out  some  tune  to  suit  the 
measure  of  his  gallop. 

She  accepted  her  capture  by  the  Marinis  more  calmly  than 
Merthyr  had  been  led  to  suppose.  The  butcher-boy's  gallop 
kept  her  senses  in  motion  for  many  hours,  and  that  reckless 
equestrian  embodied  the  idea  of  the  vivifying  pace  from 
which  she  had  dropped.  He  went  slower  and  slower.  By 
degrees  the  tune  grew  dull,  and  jarred;  and  then  Emilia 
looked  out  on  the  cold  grey  skies  of  our  autumn,  the  rain 
and  the  fogs,  and  roaring  London  filled  her  ears.  So  had 
ended  a  dream,  she  thought.  She  would  stand  at  the  win- 
dow listening  to  street-organs,  whose  hideous  discord  and 
clippings  and  drawls  did  not  madden  her,  and  whose  sug- 
gestion of  a  lovely  tune  rolled  out  no  golden  land  to  her. 
That  treasure  of  her  voice,  to  which  no  one  in  the  house 
made  allusion,  became  indeed  a  buried  treasure. 

In  the  South-western  suburb  where  the  Marinis  lived, 
plots  of  foliage  were  to  be  seen,  and  there  were  lanes  not  so 
black  but  that  they  showed  the  hues  of  the  season.  These 
led  to  the  parks  and  to  noble  gardens.  Emilia  daily  went 
out  to  keep  the  dying  colours  of  the  year  in  view,  and  walked 
to  get  among  the  trees,  where,  with  Madame  attendant  on 
her,  she  sat  counting  the  leaves  as  each  one  curved,  and  slid, 
and  spun  to  earth,  or  on  a  gust  of  air  hosts  went  aloft;  but 
it  always  ended  in  their  coming  down;  Emilia  verified  that 
fact  repeatedly.  However  high  they  flew,  the  ground  awaited 


334  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

them.  Madame  entertained  her  with  talk  of  Italy,  and  Tus- 
can wine,  and  Lombard  bread,  and  Turin  chocolate.  Marini 
never  alluded  to  his  sufferings  for  the  loss  of  these  cruelly 
interdicted  dainties,  never!  But  Madame  knew  how  his 
exile  affected  him.  And  in  England  the  sums  one  paid 
for  everything!  "One  fancies  one  pays  for  breath,"  said 
Madame,  shivering. 

One  day  the  ex-organist  of  Hillford  Church  passed  before 
them.  Emilia  let  him  go.  The  day  following  he  passed 
again,  but  turned  at  the  end  of  the  alley  and  simulated 
astonishment  at  the  appearance  of  Emilia,  as  he  neared  her. 
They  shook  hands  and  talked,  while  Madame  zealously  eyed 
any  chance  person  promenading  the  neighbourhood.  She 
wrote  for  instructions  concerning  this  gentleman  calling 
himself  Sir  Purcell  Barrett,  and  receiving  them,  she  per- 
mitted Emilia  to  invite  him  to  their  house.  "He  is  an 
Englishman  under  a  rope,  ready  for  heaven,"  Madame 
described  him  to  her  husband,  who,  though  more  at  heart 
with  Englishmen,  could  not  but  admit  that  this  one  wore  a 
look  that  appeared  as  a  prognostication  of  sadness. 

Sir  Purcell  informed  Emilia  of  his  accession  to  title ;  and 
in  reply  to  her  "Are  you  not  glad?"  smiled  and  said  that 
a  mockery  could  scarcely  make  him  glad;  indicating  never- 
theless how  feeble  the  note  of  poverty  was  in  his  grand  scale 
of  sorrow.  He  came  to  the  house  and  met  them  in  the  gar- 
dens frequently.  With  some  perversity  he  would  analyze 
to  herself  Emilia's  spirit  of  hope,  partly  perhaps  for  the 
sake  of  probing  to  what  sort  of  thing  it  might  be  in  its 
nature  and  defences;  and,  as  against  an  accomplished  dis- 
putant she  made  but  a  poor  battle,  he  injured  what  was 
precious  to  her  without  himself  gaining  any  good  whatever. 

"Why,  what  do  you  look  forward  to?"  she  said  wonder- 
Ing,  at  the  end  of  one  of  their  arguments,  as  he  courteously 
termed  this  play  of  logical  foils  with  a  baby. 

"Death,"  answered  the  grave  gentleman,  striding  on. 

Emilia  pitied  him,  thinking:  "I  might  feel  as  he  does, 
if  I  had  not  my  voice."  Seeing  that  calamity  very  remote, 
she  added:  "I  should!" 

She  knew  of  his  position  toward  Cornelia:  that  is,  she 
knew  as  much  as  he  did :  for  the  want  of  a  woman's  heart 
over  which  to  simmer  his  troubles  was  urgent  within  him, 


SHE  CLINGS   TO   HER  VOICE  385 

and  Emilia's,  though  it  lacked  experience,  was  a  woman's 
regarding  love.  And  moreover,  she  did  not  weep,  but  prac- 
tically suggested  his  favourable  chances,  which  it  was  a  sad 
satisfaction  to  him  to  prove  baseless,  and  to  knock  utterly 
over.  The  grief  in  which  the  soul  of  a  human  creature  is 
persistently  seeking  (since  it  cannot  be  thrown  off)  to  clothe 
itself  comfortably,  finds  in  tears  an  irritating  expression  of 
sympathy.  Hints  of  a  brighter  future  are  its  nourishment. 
Such  embryos  are  not  tenacious  of  existence,  and  when  de- 
stroyed they  are  succulent  food  for  a  space  to  the  moody 
grief  I  am  describing. 

The  melancholy  gentleman  did  Emilia  this  good,  that, 
never  appearing  to  imagine  others  to  know  misery  save  him- 
self, he  gave  her  full  occupation  apart  from  the  workings  of 
her  own  mind.  As  to  her  case,  he  might  have  offered  the 
excuse  that  she  really  had  nothing  of  the  aspect  of  a  love- 
sick young  lady,  and  was  not  a  bit  sea-green  to  view,  or 
lamentable  in  tone.  He  was  sufficiently  humane  to  have 
felt  for  anyone  suffering,  and  the  proof  of  it  is,  that  the 
only  creature  he  saw  under  such  an  influence  he  pitied  so 
deplorably,  as  to  make  melancholy  a  habit  with  him.  He 
fretted  her  because  he  would  do  nothing,  and  this  spectacle 
of  a  lover  beloved,  but  consenting  to  be  mystified,  consent- 
in  gly  paralyzed:  —  of  a  lover  beloved! 

"Does  she  love  you?"  said  Emilia,  beseechingly. 

"If  the  truth  is  in  her,  she  does,"  he  returned. 

"  She  has  told  you  she  loves  you?  —  that  she  loves  no  one 
else?" 

"Of  this  I  am  certain." 

"  Then,  why  are  you  downcast?  my  goodness !  I  would 
take  her  by  the  hand  — 'Woman;  do  you  know  yourself? 
you  belong  to  me ! '  —  I  would  say  that;  and  never  let  go  her 
hand.  That  would  decide  everything.  She  must  come  to 
you  then,  or  you  know  what  it  is  that  means  to  separate 
you.  My  goodness !  I  see  it  so  plain ! " 

But  he  declined  to  look  thus  low,  and  stood  pitifully  smil- 
ing:—  This  spectacle,  together  with  some  subtle  spur  from 
the  talk  of  love,  roused  Emilia  from  her  lethargy.  The 
warmth  of  a  new  desire  struck  around  her  heart.  The  old 
belief  in  her  power  over  Wilfrid  joined  to  a  distinct  admis- 
sion that  she  had  for  the  moment  lost  himj  and  she  said, 


336  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

"  Yes ;  now,  as  I  am  now,  he  can  abandon  me : "  but  how  if 
he  should  see  her  and  hear  her  in  that  hushed  hour  when 
she  was  to  stand  as  a  star  before  men?  Emilia  flushed  and 
trembled.  She  lived  vividly  though  her  far-projected  sen- 
sations, until  truly  pity  for  Wilfrid  was  active  in  her  bosom, 
she  feeling  how  he  would  yearn  for  her.  The  vengeance 
seemed  to  her  so  keen  that  pity  could  not  fail  to  come. 
Thus,  to  her  contemplation,  their  positions  became  reversed : 
it  was  Wilfrid  now  who  stood  in  the  darkness,  unselected. 
Her  fiery  fancy,  unchained  from  the  despotic  heart,  illu- 
mined her  under  the  golden  future. 

"Come  to  us  this  evening,  I  will  sing  to  you,"  she  said, 
and  the  'Englishman  under  a  rope  '  bowed  assentingly. 

"  Sad  songs,  if  you  like, "  she  added. 

"  I  have  always  thought  sadness  more  musical  than  mirth," 
said  he.  "  Surely  there  is  more  grace  in  sadness !  " 

Poetry,  sculpture,  and  songs,  and  all  the  Arts,  were 
brought  forward  in  mournful  array  to  demonstrate  the  truth 
of  his  theory. 

When  Emilia  understood  him,  she  cited  dogs  and  cats,  and 
birds,  and  all  things  of  nature  that  rejoiced  and  revelled,  in 
support  of  the  opposite  view. 

"Nay,  if  animals  are  to  be  your  illustration!"  he  pro- 
tested. He  had  been  perhaps  half  under  the  delusion  that 
he  spoke  with  Cornelia,  and  with  a  sense  of  infinite  misery, 
he  compressed  the  apt  distinction  that  he  had  in  his  mind, 
which  was  to  show  where  humanity  and  simple  nature  drew 
a  line,  and  wherein  humanity  claimed  the  loftier  seat. 

"But  such  talk  must  be  uttered  to  a  soul,"  he  phrased  in- 
ternally, and  Emilia  was  denied  what  belonged  to  Cornelia. 

Hitherto  Emilia  had  refused  to  sing,  and  Madame  Marini, 
faithful  to  her  instructions,  had  never  allowed  her  to  be 
pressed  to  sing.  Emilia  would  brood  over  notes,  thinking : 
"I  can  take  that;  and  that;  and  dwell  on  such  and  such  a 
note  for  any  length  of  time  ; "  but  she  would  not  call  up  her 
voice ;  she  would  not  look  at  her  treasure.  It  seemed  more 
to  her,  untouched;  and  went  on  doubling  its  worth,  until 
doubtless  her  idea  of  capacity  greatly  relieved  her  of  the 
burden  on  her  breast,  and  the  reflection  that  she  held  a 
charm  for  all,  and  held  it  from  all,  flattered  one  who  had 
been  cruelly  robbed. 


SHE  CLINGS   TO   HER   VOICE  387 

On  their  way  homeward,  among  the  chrysanthemums  ia 
the  long  garden-walk,  they  met  Tracy  Runningbrook,  be- 
tween whose  shouts  of  delight  and  Emilia's  reserve  there 
was  so  marked  a  contrast  that  one  would  have  deemed  Tracy 
an  offender  in  her  sight.  She  had  said  to  him  entreatingly, 
"Do  not  come,"  when  he  volunteered  to  call  on  the  Mar  in  is 
in  the  evening;  and  she  got  away  from  him  as  quickly  aa 
she  could,  promising  to  be  pleased  if  he  called  the  day  fol- 
lowing. Tracy  flew  leaping  to  one  of  the  great  houses  where 
he  was  tame  cat.  When  Sir  Purcell  as  they  passed  on  spoke 
a  contemptuous  word  of  his  soft  habits  and  idleness,  Emilia 
said:  "He  is  one  of  my  true  friends." 

"And  why  is  he  interdicted  the  visit  this  evening?" 

"Because,"  she  answered,  and  grew  pale,  "he  —  he  does 
not  care  for  music.  I  wish  I  had  not  met  him." 

She  recollected  how  Tracy's  flaming  head  had  sprung  up 
before  her  —  he  who  had  always  prophesied  that  she  would 
be  famous  for  arts  unknown  to  her,  and  not  for  song  — 
just  when  she  was  having  a  vision  of  triumph  and  caressing 
the  idea  of  her  imprisoned  voice  bursting  its  captivity,  and 
soaring  into  its  old  heavens. 

"  He  does  not  care  for  music ! "  interjected  Sir  Purcell, 
with  something  like  a  frown.  "  I  have  nothing  in  common 
with  him.  But  that  I  might  have  known.  I  can  have  noth- 
ing in  common  with  a  man  who  is  not  to  be  impressed  by 
music." 

"  I  love  him  quite  as  well,"  said  Emilia.  "  He  is  a  quick 
friend.  I  am  always  certain  of  him." 

"  And  I  imagine  also  that  you  are  quits  with  your  « quick 
friend,'  "  added  Sir  Purcell.  "  You  do  not  care  for  verse,  or 
he  for  voices ! " 

"  Poetry  ?  "  said  Emilia ;  "  no,  not  much, 
talking  on  tiptoe ;  like  animals  in  cages,  always  going  to  one 
end  and  back  again.  ..." 

"  And  making  the  same  noise  when  they  get  at  the  end  - 
like  the  bears ! "     Sir  Purcell  slightly  laughed.     "  You  don  t 
approve  of  the  rhymes  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  like  the  rhymes ;  but  when  you  use  words  — 
mean,  if  you  are  in  earnest  — how  can  you  count  and  have 
stops,  and  — no,  I  do  not  care  anything  for  poetry. ' 

Sir  Purcell's  opinion  of  Emilia,  though  he  liked  her,  was, 


338  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

that  if  a  genius,  she  was  an  incomplete  one ;  and  his  positive 
judgement  (which  I  set  down  in  phrase  that  would  have 
startled  him)  ranked  both  her  and  Tracy  as  a  pair  of  partial 
humbugs,  entertaining  enough.  They  were  both  too  real 
for  him. 

Haply  at  that  moment  the  girl  was  intensely  susceptible 
for  she  chilled  by  his  side ;  and  when  he  left  her  she  begged 
Madame  to  walk  fast.  "  I  wonder  whether  I  have  a  cold ! " 
she  said. 

Madame  explained  all  the  signs  of  it  with  tragic  minute- 
ness, deciding  that  Emilia  was  free  at  present,  and  by  mira- 
cle, from  this  English  scourge ;  but  Emilia  kept  her  hands 
at  her  mouth.  Over  the  hornbeam  hedge  of  the  lane  that 
ran  through  the  market-gardens,  she  could  see  a  murky  sun- 
set spreading  its  deep-coloured  lines,  that  seemed  to  her 
really  like  a  great  sorrowing  over  earth.  It  had  never 
seemed  so  till  now;  and,  entering  the  house,  the  roar  of 
vehicles  in  a  neighbouring  road  sounded  like  something  im- 
placable in  the  order  of  things  among  us,  and  clung  about 
her  ears  pitilessly.  Running  upstairs,  she  tried  a  scale  of 
notes  that  broke  on  a  cough.  "  Did  I  cough  purposely  ?  " 
she  asked  herself ;  but  she  had  not  the  courage  to  try  the 
notes  again.  While  dressing  she  hummed  a  passage,  and 
sought  stealthily  to  pass  the  barrier  of  her  own  watchful- 
ness by  dwelling  on  a  deep  note,  from  which  she  was  to  rise 
bursting  with  full  bravura  energy,  and  so  forth  on  a  tide  of 
iong.  But  her  breath  failed.  She  stared  into  the  glass  and 
forced  the  note.  A  panic  caught  at  her  heart  when  she 
heard  the  sound  that  issued.  "  Am  I  ill  ?  I  must  be  hun- 
gry ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  It  is  a  cough !  But  I  don't  cough ! 
What  is  the  matter  with  me  ?  " 

Under  these  auspices  she  forced  her  voice  again,  and 
subsequently  loosened  her  dress,  complaining  of  the  dress- 
. maker's  affection  for  tightness.  "Now,"  she  said,  having 
fallen  upon  an  attempt  at  simple  "do,  re,  me,  fa,"  and 
laughed  at  herself.  Was  it  the  laugh,  that  stopping  her 
at  "  si,"  made  that  "  si "  so  husky,  asthmatic,  like  the  wheez- 
ing of  a  crooked  old  witch?  "I  am  unlucky,  to-night," 
said  Emilia.  Or,  rather,  so  said  her  surface-self.  The 
submerged  self  —  self  in  the  depths  —  rarely  speaks  to  the 
occasions,  but  lies  under  calamity  quietly  apprehending 


SHE  CLINGS  TO   HER   VOICE  839 

all ;  willing  that  the  talker  overhead  should  deceive  others, 
and  herself  likewise,  if  possible.  Emilia  found  her  hands 
acting  daintily  and  critically  in  the  attirement  of  her  per- 
son ;  and  then  surprised  herself  murmuring :  "  I  forgot  that 
Tracy  won't  be  here  to-night."  By  which  she  betrayed 
that  she  had  divined  those  arts  she  was  to  shine  in,  accord- 
ing to  Tracy ;  and  betrayed  that  she  had  a  terrible  fear  of 
a  loss  of  all  else.  It  pained  her  now  that  Tracy  should  not 
be  coming.  "Can  I  send  for  him?"  she  thought,  as  she 
looked  winningly  into  the  glass,  trying  to  feel  what  sort  of 
a  feeling  it  was  to  be  in  love  with  a  face  like  that  one 
fronting  her,  so  familiar  in  its  aspects,  so  strange  when 
scrutinized  studiously !  She  drew  a  chair,  and  laying  her 
elbow  on  the  toilet-table,  gazed  hard,  until  the  thought: 
"What  face  did  Wilfrid  see  last?"  (meaning,  "when  he 
saw  me  last "  )  drove  her  away. 

Not  only  did  she  know  herself  now  a  face  of  many  faces ; 
but  the  life  within  her  likewise  as  a  soul  of  many  souls. 
The  one  Emilia,  so  unquestioning,  so  sure,  lay  dead;  and 
a  dozen  new  spirits,  with  but  a  dim  likeness  to  her,  were 
fighting  for  possession  of  her  frame,  now  occupying  it  alone, 
now  in  couples;  and  each  casting  grim  reflections  on  the 
other.  Which  is  only  a  way  of  telling  you  that  the  great 
result  of  mortal  suffering — consciousness  —  had  fully  set  in ; 
to  ripen;  perhaps  to  debase;  at  any  rate,  to  prove  her. 

To  be  of  worth  was  still  her  fixed  idea  — all  that  was  clear 
in  the  thickening  mist.  "  I  cannot  be  ugly,"  she  said,  and 
reproved  herself  for  simulating  a  childish  tone.  "  Why  do 
I  talk  in  that  way  ?  I  know  I  am  not  ugly.  But  if  a  fire 
scorched  my  face  ?  There  is  nothing  that  seems  safe ! "  The 
love  of  friends  was  suggested  to  her  as  something  to  rely  on ; 
and  the  loving  them.  "  But  if  I  have  nothing  to  give  !  "  said 
Emilia,  and  opened  both  her  empty  hands.  She  had  diverted 
her  mind  from  the  pressure  upon  it,  by  this  colloquy  with  a 
looking-glass,  and  gave  herself  a  great  rapture  by  running  up 
notes  to  this  theme :  — 

"  No,  no,  no,  no,  no  !  —  nothing !  nothing ! ' 

Clear,  full,  sonant  notes ;  the  notes  of  her  true  voice, 
did  not  attempt  them  a  second  time ;  nor,  when  Sir  Purcell 
requested  her  to  sing  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  did  she 
comply.     "The  Signora  thinks  I  have  a  cold,"  she  said. 


340  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

Madame  Marini  protested  that  she  hoped  not,  she  even 
thought  not,  though  none  could  avoid  it  at  this  season  in 
this  climate,  and  she  turned  to  Sir  Purcell  to  petition  for 
any  receipts  he  might  have  in  his  possession,  specifics  for 
warding  off  the  frightful  affliction  of  households  in  England. 

"  I  have  now  twenty,"  said  Madame,  and  throwing  up  her 
eyes ;  "  I  have  tried  all !  oh !  so  many  lozenge !  " 

Marini  and  Emilia  laughed.  While  Sir  Purcell  was  main- 
taining the  fact  of  his  total  ignorance  of  the  subject  against 
Madame's  incredulity,  Emilia  left  the  room.  When  she 
came  back  Madame  was  pressing  her  visitor  to  be  explicit 
with  regard  to  a  certain  process  of  cure  conducted  by  an  ap- 
plication of  cold  water.  The  Neapolitan  gave  several  shud- 
ders as  she  marked  him  attentively.  "  Water  cold !  "  she 
murmured  with  the  deepest  pathos,  and  dropped  her  face  in 
her  hands  with  narrowed  shoulders.  Emilia  held  a  letter  over 
to  Sir  Purcell.  He  took  it,  first  assuring  himself  that  Marini 
was  in  complicity  with  them.  To  Marini  Emilia  addressed  a 
Momus  forefinger,  and  Marini  shrugged,  smiling.  "Water 
cold ! "  ejaculated  Madame,  showing  her  countenance  again. 
"  In  winter !  Luigi,  they  are  mad ! "  Marini  poked  the  fire 
briskly,  for  his  sensations  entirely  sided  with  his  wife. 

The  letter  Sir  Purcell  held  contained  these  words : 

"  Be  kind,  and  meet  me  to-morrow  at  ten  in  the  morning, 
at  that  place  where  you  first  saw  me  sitting.  I  want  you  to 
take  me  to  one  who  will  help  me.  I  cannot  lose  time  any 
more.  I  must  work.  I  have  been  dead  for  I  cannot  say 
how  long.  I  know  you  will  come. 

"I  am,  for  ever, 

"  Your  thankful  friend, 

"EMILIA." 


HER   VOICE  FAILS  841 

CHAPTER  XXXIX 

HEB  VOICE   FAILS 

THE  pride  of  punctuality  brought  Sir  Purcell  to  that 
appointed  seat  in  the  gardens  about  a  minute  in  advance  of 
Emilia.  She  came  hurrying  up  to  him  with  three  fingers 
over  her  lips.  The  morning  was  cold ;  frost  edged  the  flat 
brown  chestnut  and  beech  leaves  lying  about  on  rimy  grass ; 
so  at  first  he  made  no  remark  on  her  evident  unwillingness 
to  open  her  mouth,  but  a  feverish  look  of  her  eyes  touched 
him  with  some  kindly  alarm  for  her. 

"  You  should  not  have  come  out,  if  you  think  you  are  in 
any  danger,"  he  said. 

"  Not  if  we  walk  fast,"  she  replied,  in  a  visibly  controlled 
excitement.  "  It  will  be  over  in  an  hour.  This  way." 

She  led  the  marvelling  gentleman  toward  the  row,  and 
across  it  under  the  big  black  elms,  begging  him  to  walk 
faster.  To  accommodate  her,  he  suggested,  that  if  they  had 
any  distance  to  go,  they  might  ride,  and  after  a  short  calcu- 
lating hesitation,  she  consented,  letting  him  know  that  she 
would  tell  him  on  what  expedition  she  was  bound  whilst  they 
were  riding.  The  accompaniment  of  the  wheels,  however, 
necessitated  a  higher  pitch  of  her  voice,  which  apparently 
caused  her  to  suffer  from  a  contraction  of  the  throat,  for  she 
remained  silent,  with  a  discouraged  aspect,  her  full  brown 
eyes  showing  as  in  a  sombre  meditation  beneath  the  thick 
brows.  The  direction  had  been  given  to  the  City.  On  they 
went  with  the  torrent,  and  were  presently  engulfed  in  fog. 
The  roar  grew  muffled,  phantoms  poured  along  the  pavement, 
yellow  beamless  lights  were  in  the  shop-windows,  all  the 
vehicles  went  at  a  slow  march. 

"  It  looks  as  if  Business  were  attending  its  own  obse- 
quies," said  Sir  Purcell,  whose  spirits  were  enlivened  by 
an  atmosphere  that  confirmed  his  impression  of  things. 

Emilia  cried  twice:  "Oh!  what  cruel  weather !'  Her 
eyelids  blinked,  either  with  anger  or  in  misery. 

They  were  set  down  a  little  beyond  the  Bank,  and  when 
they  turned  from  the  cabman,  Sir  Purcell  was  warm  in  his 


J>42  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

offei  of  his  arm  to  her,  for  he  had  seen  her  wistfully  touch- 
ing what  money  she  had  in  her  pocket,  and  approved  her 
natural  good  breeding  in  allowing  it  to  pass  uurnentioned. 

"N"ow,"  he  said,  "I  must  know  what  you  want  to  do." 

"A  quiet  place!  there  is  no  quiet  place  in  this  City," 
said  Emilia  fretfully. 

A  gentleman  passing  took  off  his  hat,  saying,  with  City 
politeness,  "  Pardon  me :  you  are  close  to  a  quiet  place. 
Through  that  door,  and  the  hall,  you  will  find  a  garden, 
where  you  will  hear  London  as  if  it  sounded  fifty  miles  off." 

He  bowed  and  retired,  and  the  two  (Emilia  thankful,  Sir 
Purcell  tending  to  anger),  following  his  indication,  soon 
found  themselves  in  a  most  perfect  retreat,  the  solitude  of 
which  they  had  the  misfortune,  however,  of  destroying  for 
another,  and  a  scared,  couple. 

Here  Emilia  said :  "  I  have  determined  to  go  to  Italy  at 
once.  Mr.  Pericles  has  offered  to  pay  for  me.  It's  my 
father's  wish.  And  —  and  I  cannot  wait  and  feel  like  a 
beggar.  I  must  go.  I  shall  always  love  England  —  don't 
fear  that!" 

Sir  Purcell  smiled  at  the  simplicity  of  her  pleading  look. 

"  Now,  I  want  to  know  where  to  find  Mr.  Pericles, "  she 
pursued.  "  And  if  you  will  come  to  him  with  me !  He  is 
sure  to  be  very  angry  —  I  thought  you  might  protect  me 
from  that.  But  when  he  hears  that  I  am  really  going  at 
last  —  at  once !  —  he  can  laugh  sometimes !  you  will  see  him 
rub  his  hands." 

"I  must  enquire  where  his  chambers  are  to  be  found," 
said  Sir  Purcell. 

"Oh!  anybody  in  the  City  must  know  him,  because  he  is 
so  rich."  Emilia  coughed.  "This  fog  kills  me.  Pray 
make  haste.  Dear  friend,  I  trouble  you  very  much,  but  I 
want  to  get  away  from  this.  I  can  hardly  breathe.  I  shall 
have  no  heart  for  my  task,  if  I  don't  see  him  soon." 

"Wait  for  me,  then,"  said  Sir  Purcell;  "you  cannot  wait 
in  a  better  place.  And  I  must  entreat  you  to  be  careful." 
He  half  alluded  to  the  adjustment  of  her  shawl,  and  to  any- 
thing else,  as  far  as  she  might  choose  to  apprehend  him. 
Her  dexterity  in  tossing  him  the  letter,  unseen  by  Madame 
Marini,  might  have  frightened  him  and  given  him  a  dread, 
that  albeit  woman,  there  was  germ  of  wickedness  in  her. 


HER   VOICE  FAILS  843 

This  pained  him  acutely,  for  he  never  forgot  that  she  had 
been  the  means  of  his  introduction  to  Cornelia,  from  whom 
he  could  not  wholly  dissociate  her:  and  the  idea  that  any 
prospective  shred  of  impurity  hung  about  one  who  had  even 
looked  on  his  beloved,  was  utter  anguish  to  the  keen  senti- 
mentalist. "Be  very  careful,"  he  would  have  repeated, 
but  that  he  had  a  warning  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  and 
Emilia's  large  eyes  when  they  fixed  calmly  on  a  face  were 
not  of  a  flighty  cast.  She  stood,  too,  with  the  "  dignity  of 
sadness,"  as  he  was  pleased  to  phrase  it. 

"She  must  be  safe  here,"  he  said  to  himself.  And  yet, 
upon  reflection,  he  decided  not  to  leave  her,  peremptorily 
informing  her  to  that  effect.  Emilia  took  his  arm,  and  as 
they  were  passing  through  the  hall  of  entrance  they  met  the 
same  gentleman  who  had  directed  them  to  the  spot  of  quiet. 
Both  she  and  Sir  Purcell  heard  him  say  to  a  companion : 
"There  she  is."  A  deep  glow  covered  Emilia's  face.  "Do 
they  know  you?"  asked  Sir  Purcell.  "No,"  she  said:  and 
then  he  turned,  but  the  couple  had  gone  on. 

"  That  deserves  chastisement, "  he  muttered.  Briefly  tell- 
ing her  to  wait,  he  pursued  them.  Emilia  was  standing  in 
the  gateway,  not  at  all  comprehending  why  she  was  alone. 
"  Sandra  Belloni !  "  struck  her  ear.  Looking  forward  she 
perceived  a  hand  and  a  head  gesticulating  from  a  cab-win- 
dow. She  sprang  out  into  the  street,  and  instantly  the  hand 
clenched  and  the  head  glared  savagely.  It  was  Mr.  Pericles 
himself,  in  travelling  costume. 

"I  am  your  fool?"  he  began,  overbearing  Emilia's  most 
irritating  "How  are  you?"  and  "Are  you  quite  well?" 

"I  am  your  fool?  hein?  You  send  me  to  Paris!  to 
Geneve!  I  go  over  Lago  Maggiore,  and  aha!  it  is  your 
joke,  meess!  I  juste  return.  Oh  capital!  At  Milano  I 
wait  —  I  enquire  —  till  a  letter  from  old  Belloni,  and  I  learn 
I  am  your  fool  —  of  you  all!  Jomp  in." 

"A  gentleman  is  coming,"  said  Emilia,  by  no  means 
intimidated,  though  the  forehead  of  Mr.  Pericles  looked 
portentous.  "He  was  bringing  me  to  you." 

"Zen,  jomp  in!  "  cried  Mr.  Pericles. 

Here  Sir  Purcell  came  up. 

Emilia  said  softly :  "  Mr.  Pericles." 

There  was  the  form  of  a  bow  of  moderate  recognition 


344  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

between  them,  but  other  hats  were  off  to  Emilia.  The  two 
gentlemen  who  had  offended  Sir  Purcell  had  insisted,  on 
learning  the  nature  of  their  offence,  that  they  had  a  right 
to  present  their  regrets  to  the  lady  in  person,  and  beg  an 
excuse  from  her  lips.  Sir  Purcell  stood  white  with  a  futile 
effort  at  self-control,  as  one  of  them,  preluding  "Pardon 
me, "  said :  "  I  had  the  misfortune  to  remark  to  my  friend, 
as  I  passed  you,  'There  she  is.'  May  I,  indeed,  ask  your 
pardon?  My  friend  is  an  artist.  I  met  him  after  I  had 
first  seen  you.  He,  at  least,  does  not  think  foolish  my  rec- 
ommendation to  him  that  he  should  look  on  you  at  all  haz- 
ards. Let  me  petition  you  to  overlook  the  impertinence." 

"I  think,  gentlemen,  you  have  now  made  the  most  of  the 
advantage  my  folly,  in  supposing  you  would  regret  or  apolo- 
gize fittingly  for  an  impropriety,  has  given  you,"  interposed 
Sir  Purcell. 

His  new  and  superior  tone  (for  he  had  previously  lost  his 
temper  and  spoken  with  a  silly  vehemence)  caused  them  to 
hesitate.  One  begged  the  word  of  pardon  from  Emilia  to 
cover  his  retreat.  She  gave  it  with  an  air  of  thorough-bred 
repose,  saying,  "I  willingly  pardon  you,"  and  looking  at 
them  no  more,  whereupon  they  vanished.  Ten  minutes 
later,  Emilia  and  Sir  Purcell  were  in  the  chambers  of  Mr. 
Pericles. 

The  Greek  had  done  nothing  but  grin  obnoxiously  to 
every  word  spoken  on  the  way,  drawing  his  hand  down 
across  his  jaw,  to  efface  the  hard  pale  wrinkles,  and  eyeing 
Emilia's  cavalier  with  his  shrewdest  suspicious  look. 

"You  will  excuse," — he  pointed  to  the  confusion  of  the 
room  they  were  in,  and  the  heap  of  unopened  letters,  —  "I 
am  from  ze  Continent:  I  do  not  expect  ze  pleasure.  A 
seat?" 

Mr.  Pericles  handed  chairs  to  his  visitors. 

"  It  is  a  climate,  is  it  not, "  he  resumed. 

Emilia  said  a  word,  and  he  snapped  at  her,  immediately 
adding,  "Hein?  Ah!  so!"  with  a  charming  urbanity. 

"  How  lucky  that  we  should  meet  you,"  exclaimed  Emilia. 
"  We  were  just  coming  to  you  —  to  find  out,  I  mean,  where 
you  were,  and  call  on  you." 

"Ough!  do  not  tell  me  lies,"  said  Mr.  Pericles,  clasping 
the  hollow  of  his  cheeks  between  thumb  and  forefinger. 


HER  VOICE  FAILS  345 

"Allow  me  to  assure  you  that  what  Miss  Belloni  has  said 
is  perfectly  correct,"  Sir  Purcell  remarked. 

Mr.  Pericles  gave  a  short  bow.  "It  is  ze  same;  I  am 
much  obliged." 

"And  you  have  just  come  from  Italy?  "  said  Emilia. 

"  Where  you  did  me  ze  favour  to  send  me,  it  is  true 
Sanks!" 

"  Oh,  what  a  difference  between  Italy  and  this !  "  Emilia 
turned  her  face  to  the  mottled  yellow  windows. 

"Many  sanks,"  repeated  Mr.  Pericles,  after  which  the 
three  continued  silent  for  a  time. 

At  last  Emilia  said,  bluntly,  "  I  have  come  to  ask  you  to 
take  me  to  Italy." 

Mr.  Pericles  made  no  sign,  but  Sir  Purcell  leaned  for- 
ward to  her  with  a  gaze  of  astonishment,  almost  of  horror. 

"Will  you  take  me?"  persisted  Emilia. 

Still  the  sullen  Greek  refused  either  to  look  at  her  or  to 
answer. 

"Because  I  am  ready  to  go,"  she  went  on.  "I  want  to 
go  at  once;  to-day,  if  you  like.  I  am  getting  too  old  to 
waste  an  hour." 

Mr.  Pericles  uncrossed  his  legs,  ejaculating,  "What  a 
fog!  Ah!"  and  that  was  all.  He  rose,  and  went  to  a 
cupboard. 

Sir  Purcell  murmured  hurriedly  in  Emilia's  ear,  "Have 
you  considered  what  you've  been  saying?  " 

"Yes,  yes.  It  is  only  a  journey,"  Emilia  replied,  in  a 
like  tone. 

"  A  journey !  " 

"My  father  wishes  it." 

"Your  mother?" 

"  Hush !    I  intend  to  make  him  take  the  Madre  with  me." 

She  designated  Mr.  Pericles,  who  had  poured  into  a 
small  liqueur  glass  some  green  Chartreuse,  smelling  strong 
of  pines.  His  visitors  declined  to  eject  the  London  fog  by 
this  aid  of  the  mountain  monks,  and  Mr.  Pericles  warmed 
himself  alone. 

"You  are  wiz  old  Belloni,"  he  called  out. 

"I  am  not  staying  with  my  father,"  said  Emilia. 

"Where?"  Mr.  Pericles  shed  a  baleful  glance  on  Sir 
Purcell. 


346  EMHJA   IN   ENGLAND 

"I  am  staying  with  Signer  Marini." 

"Servente!"  Mr.  Pericles  ducked  his  head  quite  low, 
while  his  hand  swept  the  floor  with  an  imaginary  cap. 
Malice  had  lighted  up  his  features,  and  finding,  after  the 
first  burst  of  sarcasm,  that  it  was  vain  to  indulge  it  toward 
an  absent  person,  he  altered  his  style.  "Look,  "he  cried 
to  Emilia,  "it  is  Marini  stops  you  and  old  Belloni  —  a  con- 
spirator, aha!  Is  it  foi  an  artist  to  conspire,  and  be  car- 
bonaro,  and  kiss  books,  and,  mon  Dieu!  bon!  it  is  Marini 
plays  me  zis  trick.  I  mark  him.  I  mark  him,  I  say!  He 
is  paid  by  young  Pole.  I  hold  zat  family  in  my  hand,  I 
say !  So  I  go  to  be  met  by  you,  and  on  I  go  to  Italy.  I 
get  a  letter  at  Milano,  — 'Marini  stop  me  at  Dover,'  signed 
'  Giuseppe  Belloni. '  Ze  letter  have  been  spied  into  by  ze 
Austrians.  I  am  watched  —  I  am  dogged  —  lam  impris- 
oned —  I  am  examined.  'You  know  zis  Giuseppe  Belloni? ' 
'Meine  Herrn!  he  was  to  come.  I  leave  word  at  Paris  for 
him,  at  Geneve,  at  Stresa,  to  bring  his  daughter  to  ze  Con- 
servatoire, for  which  I  pay.  She  has  a  voice  —  or  she 
had." 

"  Has !  "  exclaimed  Emilia. 

"  Had !  "  Mr.  Pericles  repeated. 

"She  has!" 

"  Zen  sing!  "  with  which  thunder  of  command,  Mr.  Peri- 
cles gave  up  his  vindictive  narration  of  the  points  of  his 
injuries  sustained,  and,  pitching  into  a  chair,  pressed  his 
fingers  to  his  temples,  frowning  attention.  His  eyes  were 
on  the  floor.  Presently  he  glanced  up,  and  saw  Emilia's 
chest  rising  quickly.  No  voice  issued. 

"It  is  to  commence,"  cried  Mr.  Pericles.  "Hein!  now 
sing." 

Emilia  laid  her  hand  under  her  throat.  "  Not  now !  Oh, 
not  now!  When  you  have  told  me  what  those  Austrians 
did  to  you.  I  want  to  hear;  I  am  very  anxious  to  hear. 
And  what  they  said  of  my  father.  How  could  he  have 
come  to  Milan  without  a  passport?  He  had  only  a  passport 
to  Paris." 

"  And  at  Paris  I  leave  instructions  for  ze  procuration  of  a 
passport  over  Lombardy.  Am  I  not  Antonio  Pericles 
Agriolopoulos?  Sing,  I  say!" 

"  Ah,  but  what  voices  you  must  have  heard  in  Italy,"  said 


HER   VOICE  FAILS  847 

Emilia  softly.  "I  am  afraid  to  sing  after  them.  SI:  I 
dare  not." 

She  panted,  little  in  keeping  with  the  cajolery  of  her 
tones,  but  she  had  got  Mr.  Pericles  upon  a  theme  serious 
to  his  mind. 

"  Not  a  voice !  not  one ! "  he  cried,  stamping  his  foot. 
"  All  is  French.  I  go  twice  wizin  six  monz,  and  if  I  go  to 
a  goose-yard  I  hear  better.  Oh,  yes!  it  is  tune  —  'ta-ta-ta 
—  ti-ti-ti  —  to ! '  and  of  ze  heart  —  where  is  zat?  Mon 
Dieu !  I  despair.  I  see  music  go  dead.  Let  me  hear  you. 
Sandra." 

His  enthusiasm  had  always  affected  Emilia,  and  pain- 
fully since  her  love  had  given  her  a  consciousness  of  infi- 
delity to  her  Art,  but  now  the  pathetic  appeal  to  her  took 
away  her  strength,  and  tears  rose  in  her  eyes  at  the  thought 
of  his  faith  in  her.  His  repetition  of  her  name  —  the  'San- 
dra '  being  uttered  with  unwonted  softness  —  plunged  her 
into  a  fit  of  weeping. 

"Ah!"  Mr.  Pericles  shouted.  "See  what  she  has  come 
to ! "  and  he  walked  two  or  three  paces  off  to  turn  upon  her 
spitefully.  "She  will  be  vapeurs,  nerfs,  I  know  not! 
when  it  wants  a  physique  of  a  saint!  Sandra  Belloni,"  he 
added,  gravely,  "lift  up  ze  head!  Sing,  'Sempre  al  tuo 
santo  nome. ' " 

Emilia  checked  her  tears.  His  hand  being  raised  to  beat 
time,  she  could  not  withstand  the  signal.  "Sempre;"  — 
there  came  two  struggling  notes,  to  which  another  clung, 
shuddering  like  two  creatures  on  the  deeps. 

She  stopped;  herself  oddly  calling  out  "Stop." 

"Stop  who,  done?"  Mr.  Pericles  postured  an  indignant 
interrogation. 

"I  mean,  I  must  stop,"  Emilia  faltered.  "It's  the  fog. 
I  cannot  sing  in  this  fog.  It  chokes  me." 

Apparently  Mr.  Pericles  was  about  to  say  something 
frightfully  savage,  which  was  restrained  by  the  presence 
of  Sir  Purcell.  He  went  to  the  door  in  answer  to  a  knock, 
while  Emilia  drew  breath  as  calmly  as  she  might;  her  head 
moving  a  little  backward  with  her  breathing,  in  a  sad  me- 
chanical way  painful  to  witness.  Sir  Purcell  stretched  his 
hand  out  to  her,  but  she  did  not  take  it.  She  was  listening 
to  voices  at  the  door.  Was  it  really  Mr.  Pole  who  was 


348  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

there?  Quite  unaware  of  the  effect  the  sight  of  her  would 
produce  on  him,  Emilia  rose  and  walked  to  the  doorway. 
She  heard  Mr.  Pole  abusing  Mr.  Pericles  half  banteringly 
for  his  absence  while  business  was  urgent,  saying  that  they 
must  lay  their  heads  together  and  consult,  otherwise  —  a 
significant  indication  appeared  to  close  the  sentence. 

"  But  if  you've  just  come  off  your  journey,  and  have  got 
a  lady  in  there,  we  must  postpone,  I  suppose.  Say,  this 
afternoon.  I'll  keep  up  to  the  mark,  if  nothing  hap- 
pens. ..." 

Emilia  pushed  the  door  from  the  hand  of  Mr.  Pericles, 
and  was  advancing  toward  the  old  man  on  the  landing  j  but 
no  sooner  did  the  latter  verify  to  his  startled  understanding 
that  he  had  seen  her,  than  with  an  exclamation  of  "  All 
right!  good-bye!"  he  began  a  rapid  descent  of  the  stairs. 
A  distance  below,  he  bade  Mr.  Pericles  take  care  of  her, 
and  as  an  excuse  for  his  abrupt  retreat,  the  word  "  busy  " 
sounded  up. 

"  Does  my  face  frighten  him  ?  "  Emilia  thought.  It  made 
her  look  on  herself  with  a  foreign  eye.  This  is  a  dreadful 
but  instructive  piece  of  contemplation ;  acting  as  if  the  rich 
warm  blood  of  self  should  have  ceased  to  hug  about  us,  and 
we  stand  forth  to  be  dissected  unresistingly.  All  Emilia's 
vital  strength  now  seemed  to  vanish.  At  the  renewal  of  Mr. 
Pericles'  peremptory  mandate  for  her  to  sing,  she  could 
neither  appeal  to  him,  nor  resist ;  but,  raising  her  chest,  she 
made  her  best  effort,  and  then  covered  her  face.  This  was 
done  less  for  concealment  of  her  shame-stricken  features 
than  to  avoid  sight  of  the  stupefaction  imprinted  upon  Mr. 
Pericles. 

"  Again,  zat  A  flat ! "  he  called  sternly. 

She  tried  it. 

"Again!" 

Again  she  did  her  utmost  to  accomplish  the  task.  If  you 
have  seen  a  girl  in  a  fit  of  sobs  elevate  her  head,  with  hard- 
shut  eyelids,  while  her  nostrils  convulsively  take  in  a  long 
breath,  as  if  for  speech,  but  it  is  expended  in  one  quick  vacant 
sigh,  you  know  how  Emilia  looked.  And  it  requires  a  hu- 
mane nature  to  pardon  such  an  aspect  in  a  person  from  whom 
we  have  expected  triumphing  glances  and  strong  thrilling 
tones. 


HER  VOICE  FAILS  349 

"  What  is  zis  ?  "    Mr.  Pericles  came  nearer  to  her. 

He  would  listen  to  no  charges  against  the  atmosphere. 
Commanding  her  to  give  one  simple  run  of  notes,  a  contralto 
octave,  he  stood  over  her  with  keenly  watchful  eyes.  Sir 
Purcell  bade  him  observe  her  distress. 

"I  am  much  obliged,"  Mr.  Pericles  bowed.  "She  is 
ruined.  I  have  suspected.  Ha!  But  I  ask  for  a  note! 
One ! " 

This  imperious  signal  drew  her  to  another  attempt.  The 
deplorable  sound  that  came  sent  Emilia  sinking  down  with 
a  groan. 

"  Basta,  basta !  So,  it  is  zis  tale,"  said  Mr.  Pericles,  after 
an  observation  of  her  huddled  shape.  "  Did  I  not  say " 

His  voice  was  so  menacingly  loud  and  harsh  that  Sir  Pur- 
cell  remarked :  "  This  is  not  the  time  to  repeat  it  —  pardon 
me  —  whatever  you  said." 

"  Ze  fool — she  play  ze  fool !  Sir,  I  forget  ze  Christian  — 
ah !  Purcell !  —  I  say  she  play  ze  fool,  and  look  at  her ! 
Why  is  it  she  comes  to  me  now  ?  A  dozen  times  I  warn 
her.  To  Italy !  to  Italy !  all  is  ready :  you  will  have  a  place 
at  ze  Conservatorio.  No :  she  refuse.  I  say  — '  G-o,  and 
you  are  a  queen.  You  are  a  Prima  at  twenty,  and  Europe 
is  beneas  you.'  No :  she  refuse,  and  she  is  ruined.  '  What,' 
I  say,  '  what  zat  dam  silly  smile  mean  ? '  '  Oh,  no !  I  am 
not  lazy ! '  '  But  you  are  a  fool ! '  '  Oh,  no ! '  '  And  what 
are  you,  zen  ?  And  what  shall  you  do  ?  '  Nussing !  missing ! 
nussing  !  And,  dam  !  zere  is  an  end." 

Emilia  had  caught  blindly  at  Sir  Purcell's  hand,  by  which 
she  raised  herself,  and  then  uncovering  her  face,  looked  fur- 
tively at  the  malign  furnace-white  face  of  Mr.  Pericles. 

"  It  cannot  have  gone,"  —  she  spoke,  as  if  mentally  bal- 
ancing the  possibility. 

"  It  has  gone,  I  say ;  and  you  know  why,  Mademoiselle  ze 
Fool !  "  Mr.  Pericles  retorted. 

"  No,  no ;  it  can't  be  gone.     Gone  ?  voices  never  go ! " 

The  reiteration  of  the  "  You  know  why,"  from  Mr.  Peri- 
cles, and  all  the  wretchedness  of  loss  it  suggested,  robbed 
her  of  the  little  spark  of  nervous  fire  by  which  she  felt  half- 
reviving  in  courage  and  confidence. 

"  Let  me  try  once  more,"  she  appealed  to  him,  in  a  frenzy. 

Mr.  Pericles,  though  fully  believing  in  his  heart  that  it 


350  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

might  only  be  a  temporary  deprivation  of  voice,  affected  to 
scout  the  notion  of  another  trial,  but  finally  extended  his 
forefinger :  "  Well,  now  ;  start !  '  Sempre  al  tuo  santo ! '  Com- 
mence :  Sem —  "  and  Mr.  Pericles  hummed  the  opening  bar, 
not  as  an  unhopeful  man  would  do.  The  next  moment  he 
was  laughing  horribly.  Emilia,  to  make  sure  of  the  thing 
she  dreaded,  forced  the  note,  and  would  not  be  denied.  What 
voice  there  was  in  her  came  to  the  summons.  It  issued,  if 
I  may  so  express  it,  ragged,  as  if  it  had  torn  through  a 
briar-hedge :  then  there  was  a  whimper  of  tones,  and  the 
effect  was  like  the  lamentation  of  a  hardly-used  urchin,  lack- 
ing a  certain  music  that  there  is  in  his  undoubted  heartfelt 
earnestness.  No  single  note  poised  firmly  for  the  instant, 
but  swayed,  trembling  on  its  neighbour  to  right  and  to  left : 
when  pressed  for  articulate  sound,  it  went  into  a  ghastly 
whisper.  The  laughter  of  Mr.  Pericles  was  pleasing  discord 
in  comparison. 


CHAPTER  XL 

SHE    TASTES    DESPAIR 

EMILIA  stretched  out  her  hand  and  said,  "Good-bye." 
Seeing  that  the  hardened  girl,  with  her  dead  eyelids,  did  not 
appear  to  feel  herself  at  his  mercy,  and  also  that  Sir  Pur- 
cell's  forehead  looked  threatening,  Mr.  Pericles  stopped  his 
sardonic  noise.  He  went  straight  to  the  door,  which  he 
opened  with  alacrity,  and  mimicking  very  wretchedly  her 
words  of  adieu,  stood  prepared  to  bow  her  out.  She  aston- 
ished him  by  passing  without  another  word.  Before  he  could 
point  a  phrase  bitter  enough  for  expression,  Sir  Purcell  had 
likewise  passed,  and  in  going  had  given  him  a  quietly  ad- 
monishing look. 

"  Zose  Poles  are  beggars !  "  Mr.  Pericles  roared  after  them 
over  the  stairs,  and  slammed  his  door  for  emphasis.  Almost 
immediately  there  was  a  knock  at  it.  Mr.  Pericles  stood 
bent  and  cat-like  as  Sir  Purcell  reappeared.  The  latter, 
avoiding  all  preliminaries,  demanded  of  the  Greek  that  he 
should  promise  not  to  use  the  names  of  his  friends  publicly 
in  such  a  manner  again. 


SHE  TASTES   DESPAIR  851 

"  I  require  a  promise  for  the  future.  An  apology  will  be 
needless  from  you." 

"  I  shall  not  give  it,"  said  Mr.  Pericles,  with  a  sharp  lift 
of  his  upper  lip. 

"  But  you  will  give  me  the  promise  I  have  returned  for." 

In  answer  Mr.  Pericles  announced  that  he  had  spoken 
what  was  simply  true :  that  the  prosperity  of  the  Poles  was 
fictitious :  that  he,  or  any  unfavourable  chance,  could  ruin 
them :  and  that  their  friends  might  do  better  to  protect  their 
interests  than  by  menacing  one  who  had  them  in  his  power. 

Sir  Purcell  merely  reiterated  his  demand  for  the  promise, 
which  was  ultimately  snarled  to  him ;  whereupon  he  retired, 
joy  on  his  features.  For,  Cornelia  poor,  she  might  be  claimed 
by  him  fearlessly :  that  is  to  say,  without  the  fear  of  people 
whispering  that  the  penniless  baronet  had  sued  for  gold,  and 
without  the  fear  of  her  father  rejecting  his  suit.  At  least  he 
might,  with  this  knowledge  that  he  had  gained,  appoint  to 
meet  her  now !  All  the  morning  Sir  Purcell  had  been  comba- 
tive, owing  to  that  subordinate  or  secondary  post  he  occupied 
in  a  situation  of  some  excitement ;  —  which  combativeness 
is  one  method  whereby  men  thus  placed,  imagining  that  they 
are  acting  devotedly  for  their  friends,  contrive  still  to  assert 
themselves.  He  descended  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  where  he 
had  told  Emilia  to  wait  for  him,  full  of  kind  feelings  and 
ready  cheerful  counsels ;  as  thus :  "  Nothing  that  we  possess 
belongs  to  us ;  —  All  will  come  round  rightly  in  the  end ;  — 
Be  patient,  look  about  for  amusement,  and  improve  your 
mind."  And  more  of  this  copper  coinage  of  wisdom  in  the 
way  of  proverbs.  But  Emilia  was  nowhere  visible  to  receive 
the  administration  of  comfort.  Outside  the  house  the  fog 
appeared  to  have  swallowed  her.  With  some  chagrin  on  her 
behalf  (partly  a  sense  of  duty  unfulfilled)  Sir  Purcell  made 
his  way  to  the  residence  of  the  Marinis,  to  report  of  her  there, 
if  she  should  not  have  arrived.  The  punishment  he  inflicted 
on  himself  in  keeping  his  hand  an  hour  from  that  letter  to 
be  written  to  Cornelia,  was  almost  pleasing ;  and  he  was  re- 
warded by  it,  for  the  projected  sentences  grew  mellow  and 
rich,  condensed  and  throbbed  eloquently.  What  wonder, 
that  with  such  a  mental  occupation,  he  should  pass  Emilia 
and  not  notice  her  ?  She  let  him  go. 

But  when  he  was  out  of  sight,  all  seemed  gone.     The 


352  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

dismally-lighted  city  wore  a  look  of  Judgement  terrible  to 
see.  Her  brain  was  slave  to  her  senses :  she  fancied  she  had 
dropped  into  an  underground  kingdom,  among  a  mysterious 
people.  The  anguish  through  which  action  had  just  hurried 
her,  now  fell  with  a  conscious  weight  upon  her  heart.  She 
stood  a  moment,  seeing  her  desolation  stretch  outwardly 
into  endless  labyrinths ;  and  then  it  narrowed  and  took  hold 
of  her  as  a  force  within :  changing  thus,  almost  with  each 
breathing  of  her  body. 

The  fog  had  thickened.  Up  and  down  the  groping  city 
went  muffled  men,  few  women.  Emilia  looked  for  one  of  her 
sex  who  might  have  a  tender  face.  Desire  to  be  kissed  and 
loved  by  a  creature  strange  to  her,  and  to  lay  her  head  upon 
a  woman's  bosom,  moved  her  to  gaze  around  with  a  longing 
once  or  twice ;  but  no  eyes  met  hers,  and  the  fancy  recurred 
vividly  that  she  was  not  in  the  world  she  had  known.  Other- 
wise, what  had  robbed  her  of  her  voice  ?  She  played  with 
her  fancy  for  comfort,  long  after  any  real  vitality  in  it  had 
oozed  out.  Her  having  strength  to  play  at  fancies  showed 
that  a  spark  of  hope  was  alive.  In  truth,  firm  of  flesh  as  she 
was,  to  believe  that  all  worth  had  departed  from  her  was  im- 
possible, and  when  she  reposed  simply  on  her  sensations,  very 
little  trouble  beset  her :  only  when  she  looked  abroad  did  the 
aspect  of  numerous  indifferent  faces,  and  the  harsh  flowing 
of  the  world  its  own  way,  tell  her  she  had  lost  her  power. 
Could  it  be  lost  ?  The  prospect  of  her  desolation  grew  so 
wide  to  her  that  she  shut  her  eyes,  abandoning  herself  to 
feeling ;  and  this  by  degrees  moved  her  to  turn  back  and 
throw  herself  at  the  feet  of  Mr.  Pericles.  For,  if  he  said, 
•'  Wait,  my  child,  and  all  will  come  round  well,"  she  was 
prepared  blindly  to  think  so.  The  projection  of  the  words 
in  her  mind  made  her  ready  to  weep :  but  as  she  neared  the 
house  of  his  office  the  wish  to  hear  him  speak  that,  became 
passionate;  she  counted  all  that  depended  on  it,  and  discov- 
ered the  size  of  the  fabric  she  had  built  on  so  thin  a  plank. 
After  a  while,  her  steps  were  mechanically  swift.  Before 
she  reached  the  chambers  of  Mr.  Pericles  she  had  walked, 
she  knew  not  why,  once  round  the  little  quiet  enclosed  city- 
garden,  and  a  cold  memory  of  those  men  who  had  looked  at 
her  face  gave  her  some  wonder,  to  be  quickly  kindled  into 
fuller  comprehension. 


SHE  TASTES   DESPAIR  853 

Beholding  Emilia  once  more,  Mr.  Pericles  enjoyed  a  revival 
of  his  taste  for  vengeance  ;  but,  unhappily  for  her,  he  found 
it  languid,  and  when  he  had  rubbed  his  hands,  stared,  and 
by  sundry  sharp  utterances  brought  her  to  his  feet,  his 
satisfaction  was  less  poignant  than  he  had  expected.  As  a 
consequence,  instead  of  speaking  outrageously,  according  to 
his  habit,  in  wrath,  he  was  now  frigidly  considerate,  inform- 
ing Emilia  that  it  would  be  good  for  her  if  she  were  dead, 
seeing  that  she  was  of  no  use  whatever;  but,  as  she  was 
alive,  she  had  better  go  to  her  father  and  mother,  and  learn 
knitting,  or  some  such  industrial  employment.  "  Unless  zat 
man  for  whom  you  play  fool  !  -  "  Mr.  Pericles  shrugged 
the  rest  of  his  meaning. 

"  But  my  voice  may  not  be  gone,"  urged  Emilia.  "  I  may 
sing  to  you  to-morrow  —  this  evening.  It  must  be  the  fog. 
Why  do  you  think  it  lost  ?  It  can't  be  -  " 

"  Cracked  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pericles. 

"It  is  not!  No;  do  not  think  it.  I  may  stay  here. 
Don?t  tell  me  to  go  yet.  The  streets  make  me  wish  to  die. 
And  I  feel  I  may,  perhaps,  sing  presently.  Wait.  Will 
you  wait?" 

A  hideous  imitation  of  her  lamentable  tones  burst  from 
Mr.  Pericles.  "  Cracked  !  "  he  cried  again. 

Emilia  lifted  her  eyes,  and  looked  at  him  steadily.  She 
saw  the  idea  grow  in  the  eyes  fronting  her  that  she  had  a 
pleasant  face,  and  she  at  once  staked  this  little  bit  of  newly- 
conceived  worth  on  an  immediate  chance.  Kemernber,  that 
she  was  as  near  despair  as  a  creature  constituted  so  healthily 
could  go.  Speaking  no  longer  in  a  girlish  style,  but  with 
the  grave  pleading  manner  of  a  woman,  she  begged  Mr. 
Pericles  to  take  her  to  Italy,  and  have  faith  in  the  recovery 
of  her  voice.  He,  however,  far  from  being  softened,  as  he 
grew  aware  of  her  sweetness  of  feature,  waxed  violent  and 
insulting. 

"  Take  me,"  she  said.     "  My  voice  will  reward  you. 
feel  that  you  can  cure  it." 

"For  zat  man!    to  go  to  him  again!' 


"  I  never  shall  do  that."    There  sprang  a  glitter  as  of 
steel  in  Emilia's  eyes.     "  I  will  make  myself  yours  for  1: 
if  you  like.     Take  my  hand,  and  let  me  swear. 


354  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

break  my  word.  I  will  swear,  that  if  I  recover  my  voice  to 
become  what  you  expected,  —  I  will  marry  you  whenever 
you  ask  me,  and  then " 

More  she  was  saying,  but  Mr.  Pericles,  sputtering  a  laugh 
of  "  Sanks ! "  presented  a  postured  supplication  for  silence. 

"  I  am  not  a  man  who  marries." 

He  plainly  stated  the  relations  that  the  woman  whom  he 
had  distinguished  by  the  honours  of  selection  must  hold 
toward  him. 

Emilia's  cheeks  did  not  redden ;  but,  without  any  notion 
of  shame  at  the  words  she  listened  to,  she  felt  herself  falling 
lower  and  lower  the  more  her  spirit  clung  to  Mr.  Pericles : 
yet  he  alone  was  her  visible  personification  of  hope,  and  she 
could  not  turn  from  him.  If  he  cast  her  off,  it  seemed  to 
her  that  her  voice  was  condemned.  She  stood  there  still, 
and  the  cold-eyed  Greek  formed  his  opinion. 

He  was  evidently  undecided  as  regards  his  own  course  of 
proceeding,  for  his  chin  was  pressed  by  thumb  and  fore- 
finger hard  into  his  throat,  while  his  eyebrows  were  wrinkled 
up  to  their  highest  elevation.  From  this  attitude,  expressive 
of  the  accurate  balancing  of  the  claims  of  an  internal  debate, 
he  emerged  into  the  posture  of  a  cock  crowing,  and  Emilia 
heard  again  his  bitter  mimicry  of  her  miserable  broken 
tones,  followed  by  "  Ha !  dam  !  Basta !  basta ! " 

"  Sit  here,"  cried  Mr.  Pericles.  He  had  thrown  himself 
into  a  chair,  and  pointed  to  his  knee. 

Emilia  remained  where  she  was  standing. 

He  caught  at  her  hand,  but  she  plucked  that  from  him. 
Mr.  Pericles  rose,  sounding  a  cynical  "  Hein ! " 

"  Don't  touch  me,"  said  Emilia. 

Nothing  exasperates  certain  natures  so  much  as  the  effort 
of  the  visibly  weak  to  intimidate  them. 

"  I  shall  not  touch  you  ?  "  Mr.  Pericles  sneered.  "  Zen, 
why  are  you  here  ?  " 

"  I  came  to  my  friend,"  was  Emilia's  reply. 

"Your  friend!  He  is  not  ze  friend  of  a  couac-couac. 
Once,  if  you  please:  but  now"  (Mr.  Pericles  shrugged), 
"  now  you  are  like  ze  rest  of  women.  You  are  game.  Come 
to  me." 

He  caught  once  more  at  "her  hand,  which  she  lifted ;  then 
at  her  elbow. 


SHE  TASTES  DESPAIR 

"Will  you  touch  me  when  I  tell  you  not  to?" 

There  was  the  soft  line  of  an  involuntary  frown  over  her 
white  face,  and  as  he  held  her  arm  from  the  doubled  elbow, 
with  her  clenched  hand  aloft,  she  appeared  ready  to  strike 
a  tragic  blow. 

Anger  and  every  other  sentiment  vanished  from  Mr.  Peri- 
cles  in  the  rapturous  contemplation  of  her  admirable  artistic 
pose. 

"  Mon  Dieu !  and  wiz  a  voice ! "  he  exclaimed,  dashing  his 
fist  in  a  delirium  of  forgetfulness  against  the  one  plastered 
lock  of  hair  on  his  shining  head.  "  Little  fool !  little  dam 
fool !  —  zat  might  have  been  "  —  (Mr.  Pericles  figured  in  air 
with  his  fingers  to  signify  the  exaltation  she  was  to  have 
attained)  —  "  Mon  Dieu !  and  look  at  you !  Did  1  not  warn 
you  ?  non  e  vero  ?  Did  I  not  say  '  Euin,  ruin,  if  you  go  so  ? 
For  a  man !  —  a  voice ! '  You  will  not  come  to  me  ?  Zen, 
hear  !  you  shall  go  to  old  Belloni.  I  do  not  want  you,  my 
pretty  dear.  Woman  is  a  trouble,  a  drug.  You  shall  go  to 
old  Belloni ;  and,  crack !  if  ze  voice  will  come  back  to  a 
whip,  —  bravo,  old  Belloni ! " 

Mr.  Pericles  turned  to  reach  down  his  hat  from  a  peg.  At 
the  same  instant  Emilia  quitted  the  room. 

Dusk  was  deepening  the  yellow  atmosphere,  and  the  crowd 
was  now  steadily  flowing  in  one  direction.  The  bereaved 
creature  went  with  the  stream,  glad  to  be  surrounded  and 
unseen,  till  it  struck  her,  at  last,  that  she  was  moving  home- 
ward. She  stopped  with  a  pang  of  grief,  turned,  and  met 
all  those  people  to  whom  the  fireside  was  a  beacon.  For 
some  time  she  bore  against  the  pressure,  but  her  loneliness 
overwhelmed  her.  None  seemed  to  go  her  way.  For  a 
refuge,  she  turned  into  one  of  the  city  side  streets,  where 
she  was  quite  alone.  Unhappily,  the  street  was  of  no  length, 
and  she  soon  came  to  the  end  of  it.  There  was  the  choice 
of  retracing  her  steps,  or  entering  a  strange  street ;  and  while 
she  hesitated  a  troop  of  sheep  went  by,  that  made  a  piteous 
noise.  She  followed  them,  thinking  curiously  of  the  some- 
thing broken  that  appeared  to  be  in  their  throats.  By-and- 
by,  the  thought  flashed  in  her  that  they  were  going  to  be 
slaughtered.  She  held  her  step,  looking  at  them,  but  with- 
out any  tender  movement  of  the  heart  They  came  to  a 
butcher's  yard,  and  went-  in. 


356  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

When  she  had  passed  along  a  certain  distance,  a  shiver 
seized  her,  and  her  instinct  pushed  her  toward  the  lighted 
shops,  where  there  were  pictures.  In  one  she  saw  the  por- 
trait of  that  Queen  of  Song  whom  she  had  heard  at  Besworth. 
Two  young  men,  glancing  as  they  walked  by  arm  in  arm, 
pronounced  the  name  of  the  great  enchantress,  and  hummed 
one  of  her  triumphant  airs.  The  features  expressed  health, 
humour,  power,  every  fine  animal  faculty.  Genius  was  on 
the  forehead  and  the  plastic  mouth ;  the  forehead  being  well 
projected,  fair,  and  very  shapely,  showing  clear  balance,  as 
well  as  capacity  to  grasp  flame,  and  fling  it.  The  line  reach- 
ing to  a  dimple  from  the  upper  lip  was  saved  from  scornful- 
ness  by  the  lovely  gleam,  half-challenging,  half-consoling, 
regal,  roguish — what  you  would  —  that  sat  between  her 
dark  eyelashes,  like  white  sunlight  on  the  fringed  smooth 
roll  of  water  by  a  weir.  Such  a  dimple,  and  such  a  gleam 
of  eyes,  would  have  been  keys  to  the  face  of  a  weakling,  and 
it  was  the  more  fascinating  from  the  disregard  of  any  minor 
}harm  notable  upon  this  grand  visage,  which  could  not 
suffer  a  betrayal.  You  saw,  and  there  was  no  effort  to  con- 
ceal, that  the  spirit  animating  it  was  intensely  human ;  but 
it  was  human  of  the  highest  chords  of  humanity,  indifferent 
to  finesse  and  despising  subtleties ;  gifted  to  speak,  to  in- 
spire, and  to  command  all  great  emotions.  In  fact,  it  was 
the  masque  of  a  dramatic  artist  in  repose.  Tempered  by 
beauty,  the  robust  frame  showed  that  she  possessed  a  royal 
nature,  and  could,  as  a  foremost  qualification  for  Art,  feel 
harmoniously.  She  might  have  many  of  the  littlenesses  of 
which  women  are  accused ;  for  Art  she  promised  unspotted 
excellence ;  and,  adorable  as  she  was  by  attraction  of  her 
sex,  she  was  artist  over  all. 

Emilia  found  herself  on  one  of  the  bridges,  thinking  of  this 
aspect.  Beneath  her  was  the  stealing  river,  with  its  red  in- 
tervals, and  the  fog  had  got  a  wider  circle.  She  could  not 
disengage  that  face  from  her  mind.  It  seemed  to  say  to  her, 
boldly,  "  I  live  because  success  is  mine ; "  and  to  hint,  as 
with  a  paler  voice,  "  Death  the  fruit  of  failure."  Could  she, 
Emilia,  ever  be  looked  on  again  by  her  friends  ?  The  dread 
of  it  gave  her  shudders.  Then,  death  was  certainly  easy ! 
But  death  took  no  form  in  her  imagination,  as  it  does  to  one 
seeking  it.  She  desired  to  forget  and  to  hide  her  intolerable 


SHE  TASTES  DESPAIR  857 

losses ;  to  have  the  impostor  she  felt  herself  to  be  buried. 
As  she  walked  along  she  held  out  her  hands,  murmuring, 
"Helpless  !  useless!  "  It  came  upon  her  as  a  surprise  that 
one  like  herself  should  be  allowed  to  live.  "  I  don't  want 
to,"  she  said;  and  the  next  moment,  "I  wonder  what  a 
drowned  woman  is  like  ?  "  She  hurried  back  to  the  streets 
and  the  shops.  The  shops  failed  now  to  give  her  distraction, 
for  a  stiff  and  dripping  image  floated  across  all  the  windows, 
and  she  was  glad  to  see  the  shutters  being  closed ;  though, 
when  the  streets  were  dark,  some  friendliness  seemed  to 
have  gone.  When  the  streets  were  quite  dark,  save  for  the 
row  of  lamps,  she  walked  fast,  fearing  she  knew  not  what. 

A  little  Italian  boy  sat  doubled  over  his  organ  on  a  door- 
step, while  a  yet  smaller  girl  at  his  elbow  plied  him  with 
questions  in  English.  Emilia  stopped  before  them,  and 
the  girl  complained  to  her  that  the  perverse  little  foreigner 
would  not  answer.  Two  or  three  words  in  his  native  tongue 
soon  brought  his  face  to  view.  Emilia  sat  down  between 
them,  and  listened  to  the  prattle  of  two  languages.  The 
girl  said  that  she  never  had  supper,  which  was  also  the  case 
with  the  boy ;  so  Emilia  felt  for  her  purse,  and  sent  the  girl 
with  sixpence  in  search  of  a  shop  that  sold  cakes.  The 
girl  came  back  with  her  apron  full.  As  they  were  all  about 
to  eat,  a  policeman  commanded  them  to  quit  the  spot,  in- 
forming them  that  he  knew  both  them  and  their  dodges. 
Emilia  stood  up,  and  was  taking  her  little  people  away,  when 
the  policeman,  having  suddenly  changed  his  accurate  opinion 
of  her,  said,  "  You're  giving  'em  some  supper,  miss  ?  Oh, 
they  must  sit  down  to  their  suppers,  you  know ! "  and  walked 
away,  not  to  be  a  witness  of  this  infraction  of  the  law.  So, 
they  sat  down  and  ate,  and  the  boy  and  girl  tried  to  say 
intelligible  things  to  one  another,  and  laughed.  Emilia 
could  not  help  joining  in  their  laughter.  The  girl  was  very 
anxious  to  know  whether  the  boy  was  ever  beaten,  and  hear- 
ing that  he  was,  she  appeared  better  satisfied,  remarking 
that  she  was  also,  but  curious  still  as  to  the  different  forms 
of  chastisement  they  received.  This  being  partially  ex- 
plained, she  wished  to  know  whether  he  would  be  beaten 
that  night,  Emilia  interpreting.  A  grin,  and  a  rapid  whistle 
and  <  cluck,'  significant  of  the  application  of  whips,  told  the 
state  of  his  expectations;  at  which  the  girl  clapped  her 


358  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

hands,  adding,  lamentably,  "  So  shall  I,  'cause  I  am  always." 
Emilia  gathered  them  under  each  shoulder,  when,  to  her  de- 
light and  half  perplexity,  they  closed  their  eyes,  leaning 
against  her. 

The  policeman  passed,  and  for  an  hour  endured  this  spec- 
tacle. At  last  he  felt  compelled  to  explain  to  Emilia  what 
were  the  sentiments  of  gentlefolks  with  regard  to  their 
doorsteps,  apart  from  the  law  of  the  matter.  He  put  it  to 
her  human  nature  whether  she  would  like  her  doorsteps  to 
be  blocked,  so  that  no  one  could  enter,  and  anyone  emerging 
stood  a  chance  of  being  precipitated,  nose  foremost,  upon  the 
pavement.  Then,  again,  as  gentlefolks  had  good  experience 
of,  the  young  ones  in  London  were  twice  as  cunning  as  the 
old.  Emilia  pleaded  for  her  sleeping  pair,  that  they  might 
not  be  disturbed.  Her  voice  gave  the  keeper  of  the  peace 
notions  of  her  being  one  of  the  eccentric  young  ladies  who 
are  occasionally  '  missing/  and  have  advertizing  friends.  He 
uttered  a  stern  ahem  !  preliminary  to  assent ;  but  the  noise 
wakened  the  children,  who  stared,  and  readily  obeyed  his 
gesture,  which  said,  "  Be  off ! "  while  his  words  were  those 
of  remonstrance.  Emilia  accompanied  them  a  little  way. 
Both  promised  eagerly  that  they  would  be  at  the  same  place 
the  night  following  and  departed  —  the  boy  with  laughing 
nods  and  waving  of  hands,  which  the  girl  imitated.  Emilia's 
feeling  of  security  went  with  them.  She  at  once  feigned  a 
destination  in  the  distance,  and  set  forward  to  reach  it,  but 
the  continued  exposure  of  this  delusion  made  it  difficult  to 
renew.  She  fell  to  counting  the  hours  that  were  to  elapse 
before  she  would  meet  those  children,  saying  to  herself,  that 
whatever  she  did  she  must  keep  her  engagement  to  be  at  the 
appointed  steps.  This  restriction  set  her  darkly  fancying 
that  she  wished  for  her  end. 

Remembering  those  men  who  had  looked  at  her  admir- 
ingly, "  Am  I  worth  looking  at  ?  "  she  said ;  and  it  gave  her 
some  pleasure  to  think  that  she  had  it  still  in  her  power  to 
destroy  a  thing  of  value.  She  was  savagely  ashamed  of 
going  to  death  empty-handed.  By-and-by,  great  fatigue 
stiffened  her  limbs,  and  she  sat  down  from  pure  want  of 
rest.  The  luxury  of  rest  and  soothing  languor  kept  hard 
thoughts  away.  She  felt  as  if  floating,  for  a  space.  The 
fear  of  the  streets  left  her.  But  when  necessity  for  rest 


SHE  TASTES  DESPAIR  3.Y.* 

had  gone,  she  clung  to  the  luxury  still,  and  sitting  bent  for- 
ward, with  her  hands  about  her  knees,  she  began  to  brood 
over  tumbled  images  of  a  wrong  done  to  her.  She  had  two 
distinct  visions  of  herself,  constantly  alternating  and  acting 
like  the  temptation  of  two  devils.  One  represented  her 
despicable  in  feature,  and  bade  her  die ;  the  other  showed  a 
fair  face,  feeling  which  to  be  her  own,  Emilia  had  fits  of 
intolerable  rage.  This  vision  prevailed;  and  this  wicked 
side  of  her  humanity  saved  her.  Active  despair  is  a  pas- 
sion that  must  be  superseded  by  a  passion.  Passive  despair 
comes  later ;  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  mental  action,  and  is 
mainly  a  corruption  or  degradation  of  our  blood.  The  rage 
in  Emilia  was  blind  at  first,  but  it  rose  like  a  hawk,  and 
singled  its  enemy.  She  fixed  her  mind  to  conceive  the  fool- 
ishness of  putting  out  a  face  that  her  rival  might  envy,  and 
of  destroying  anything  that  had  value.  The  flattery  of 
beauty  came  on  her  like  a  warm  garment.  When  she 
opened  her  eyes,  seeing  what  she  was  and  where,  she  almost 
smiled  at  the  silly  picture  that  had  given  her  comfort. 
Those  men  had  looked  on  her  admiringly,  it  was  true,  but 
would  Wilfrid  have  ceased  to  love  her  if  she  had  been  beau- 
tiful ?  An  extraordinary  intuition  of  Wilfrid's  sentiment 
tormented  her  now.  She  saw  herself  in  the  light  that  he 
would  have  seen  her  by,  till  she  stood  with  the  sensations 
of  an  exposed  criminal  in  the  dark  length  of  the  street,  and 
hurried  down  it,  back,  as  well  as  she  could  find  her  way,  to 
the  friendly  policeman. 

Her  question  on  reaching  him,  "  Are  you  married  ?  "  was 
prodigiously  astonishing,  and  he  administered  the  rebuff  of 
an  affirmative  with  severity.  "  Then,"  said  Emilia,  "  when 
you  go  home,  let  me  go  with  you  to  your  wife.  Perhaps  she 
will  consent  to  take  care  of  me  for  this  night."  The  police- 
man coughed  mildly  and  replied,  "  It's  plain  you  know  noth- 
ing of  women  —  begging  your  pardon,  miss,  —  for  I  can  see 
you're  a  lady."  Emilia  repeated  her  petition,  and  the  police- 
man explained  the  nature  of  women.  Not  to  be  baffled, 
Emilia  said,  "  I  think  your  wife  must  be  a  good  woman." 
Hereat  the  policeman  laughed,  affirming  "  that  the  best  of 
them  knew  what  bad  suspicions  was."  Ultimately,  he  con- 
sented to  take  her  to  his  wife,  when  he  was  relieved,  after 
the  term  of  so  many  minutes.  Emilia  stood  at  a  distance, 


360  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

speculating  on  the  possible  choice  he  would  make  of  a  tune 
to  accompany  his  monotonous  walk  to  and  fro,  and  on  the 
certainty  of  his  wearing  any  tune  to  nothing. 

She  was  in  a  bed,  sleeping  heavily,  a  little  before  dawn. 

The  day  that  followed  was  her  day  of  misery.  The  blow 
that  had  stunned  her  had  become  as  a  loud  intrusive  pulse 
in  her  head.  By  this  new  daylight  she  fathomed  the  depth, 
and  reckoned  the  value,  of  her  loss.  And  her  senses  had  no 
pleasure  in  the  light,  though  there  was  sunshine.  The  woman 
who  was  her  hostess  was  kind,  but  full  of  her  first  surprise 
at  the  strange  visit,  and  too  openly  ready  for  any  informa- 
tion the  young  lady  might  be  willing  to  give  with  regard  to 
her  condition,  prospects,  and  wishes.  Emilia  gave  none. 
She  took  the  woman's  hand,  asking  permission  to  remain 
under  her  protection.  The  woman  by-and-by  named  a  sum 
of  money  as  a  sum  for  weekly  payment,  and  Emilia  trans- 
ferred all  to  her  that  she  had.  The  policeman  and  his  wife 
thought  her,  though  reasonable,  a  trifle  insane.  She  sat  at 
a  window  for  hours  watching  a  'last  man'  of  the  fly  species 
walking  up  and  plunging  down  a  pane  of  glass.  On  this 
transparent  solitary  field  for  the  most  objectless  enterprise 
ever  undertaken,  he  buzzed  angrily  at  times,  as  if  he  had 
another  meaning  in  him,  which  was  being  wilfully  misinter- 
preted. Then  he  mounted  again  at  his  leisure,  to  pitch 
backward  as  before.  Emilia  found  herself  thinking  with 
great  seriousness  that  it  was  not  wonderful  for  boys  to  be 
always  teasing  and  killing  flies,  whose  thin  necks  and  bob- 
bing heads  themselves  suggested  the  idea  of  decapitation. 
She  said  to  her  hostess:  "I  don't  like  flies.  They  seem 
never  to  sing  but  when  they  are  bothered."  The  woman 
replied :  "  Ah,  indeed  ?  "  very  smoothly,  and  thought :  "  If 
you  was  to  bust  out  now,  which  of  us  two  would  be  strong- 
est?" Emilia  grew  distantly  aware  that  the  policeman 
and  his  wife  talked  of  her  and  watched  her  with  combined 
observation. 

When  it  was  night  she  went  to  keep  her  appointment. 
The  girl  was  there,  but  the  boy  came  late.  He  said  he  had 
earned  only  a  few  pence  that  day,  and  would  be  beaten.  He 
spoke  in  a  whimpering  tone  which  caused  the  girl  to  desire 
a  translation  of  his  words.  Emilia  told  her  how  things  were 
with  him,  and  the  girl  expressed  a  wish  that  she  had  an 


SHE  TASTES  DESPAIR  861 

organ,  as  in  that  case  she  would  be  sure  to  earn  more  than 
sixpence  a  day ;  such  being  the  amount  that  procured  her 
nightly  a  comfortable  reception  in  the  arms  of  her  parents. 
"  Do  you  like  music  ?  "  said  Emilia.  The  girl  replied  that 
she  liked  organs ;  but,  as  if  to  avoid  committing  an  injustice, 
cited  parrots  as  foremost  in  her  affections.  Holding  them 
both  to  her  breast,  Emilia  thought  that  she  would  rescue 
them  from  this  beating  by  giving  them  the  money  they  had 
to  offer  for  kindness:  but  the  restlessness  of  the  children 
suddenly  made  her  a  third  party  to  the  thought  of  cakes. 
She  had  no  money.  Her  heart  bled  for  the  poor  little  hun- 
gry, apprehensive  creatures.  For  a  moment  she  half  fan- 
cied she  had  her  voice,  and  looked  up  at  the  windows  of  the 
pitiless  houses  with  a  bold  look ;  but  there  was  a  speedy 
mockery  of  her  thought  —  "You  shall  listen:  you  shall 
open ! "  She  coughed  hoarsely,  and  then  fell  into  fits  of 
crying.  Her  friend  the  policeman  came  by  and  took  her 
arm  with  a  force  that  he  meant  to  be  persuasive ;  so  lifting 
her  and  handing  her  some  steps  beyond  the  limit  of  his  beat, 
with  stern  directions  for  her  to  proceed  home  immediately. 
She  obeyed.  Next  day  she  asked  her  hostess  to  lend  her 
half-a-crown.  The  woman  snapped  shortly  in  answer :  "No; 
the  less  you  have  the  better."  Emilia  was  obliged  to  abandon 
her  little  people. 

She  was  to  this  extent  the  creature  of  mania :  that  she 
could  not  conceive  of  a  way  being  open  by  which  she  might 
return  to  her  father  and  mother,  or  any  of  her  friends.  It 
was  to  her  not  a  matter  for  her  will  to  decide  upon,  but 
simply  a  black  door  shut  that  nothing  could  displace.  When 
the  week,  for  which  term  of  shelter  she  had  paid,  was  ended, 
her  hostess  spoke  upon  this  point,  saying,  more  to  convince 
Emilia  of  the  necessity  for  seeking  her  friends  than  from 
any  unkindness :  "  Me  and  my  husband  can't  go  on  keepin' 
you,  you  know,  my  dear,  however  well's  our  meaning." 
Emilia  drew  the  woman  toward  her  with  both  her  hands, 
softly  shaking  her  head.  She  left  the  house  about  noon. 

It  was  now  her  belief  that  she  had  probably  no  more  than 
another  day  to  live,  for  she  was  destitute  of  money, 
thought  relieved  her  from  that  dreadful  fear  of  the  street, 
and  she  walked  at  her  own  pace,  even  after  dark.    The  rum- 
ble and  the  rattle  of  wheels ;  the  cries  and  grinding  noises ; 


362  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

the  hum  of  motion  and  talk ;  all  under  the  lingering  smoky 
red  of  a  London  Winter  sunset,  were  not  discord  to  her  ani- 
mated blood.  Her  unhunted  spirit  made  a  music  of  them. 
It  was  not  like  the  music  of  other  days,  nor  was  the  exulta- 
tion it  created  at  all  like  happiness :  but  she  at  least  forgot 
herself.  Voices  came  in  her  ear,  and  hung  unheard  until 
long  after  the  speaker  had  passed.  Hunger  did  not  assail 
her.  She  was  not  beset  by  an  animal  weakness ;  and  having 
in  her  mind  no  image  of  death,  and  with  her  ties  to  life  cut 
away ;  —  thus  devoid  of  apprehension  or  regret,  she  was  what 
her  quick  blood  made  her,  for  the  time.  She  recognized  that, 
for  one  near  extinction,  it  was  useless  to  love  or  to  hate :  so 
Wilfrid  and  Lady  Charlotte  were  spared.  Emilia  thought 
of  them  both  with  a  sort  of  equanimity ;  not  that  any  clear 
thought  filled  her  brain  through  that  delirious  night.  The 
intoxicating  music  raged  there  at  one  level  depression,  never 
rising  any  scale,  never  undulating  ever  so  little,  scarcely 
changing  its  barbarous  monotony  of  notes.  She  had  no 
power  over  it.  Her  critical  judgement  would  at  another 
moment  have  shrieked  at  it.  She  was  moved  by  it  as  by  a 
mechanical  force. 

The  South-west  wind  blew,  and  the  hours  of  the  night  were 
not  evil  to  outcasts.  Emilia  saw  many  lying  about,  getting 
rest  where  they  might.  She  hurried  her  eye  pityingly  over 
little  children,  but  the  devil  that  had  seized  her  sprang  con- 
tempt for  the  others  —  older  beggars,  who  appeared  to  suc- 
cumb to  their  fate  when  they  should  have  lifted  their  heads 
up  bravely.  On  she  passed  from  square  to  market,  market 
to  park ;  and  presently  her  mind  shot  an  arrow  of  desire  for 
morning,  which  was  nothing  less  than  hunger  beginning  to 
stir.  "  When  will  the  shops  open  ?  "  She  tried  to  cheat 
herself  by  replying  that  she  did  not  care  when,  but  pangs  of 
torment  became  too  rapid  for  the  counterfeit.  Her  imagina- 
tion raised  the  roof  from  those  great  rich  houses,  and  laid 
bare  a  brilliancy  of  dish-covers ;  and  if  any  sharp  gust  of  air 
touched  the  nerve  in  her  nostril,  it  seemed  instantaneously 
charged  with  the  smell  of  old  dinners.  "  No,"  cried  Emilia, 
"  I  dislike  anything  but  plain  food."  She  quickly  gave  way, 
and  admitted  a  craving  for  dainty  morsels.  "  One  lump  of 
sugar!"  she  subsequently  sighed.  But  neither  sugar  nor 
meat  approached  her. 


SHE  TASTES  DESPAIR  863 

Her  seat  was  under  trees,  between  a  man  and  a  woman  who 
slanted  from  her  with  hidden  chins.  The  chilly  dry  leaves 
began  to  waken,  and  the  sky  showed  its  grey.  Hunger  had 
become  as  a  leaden  ball  in  Emilia's  chest.  She  could  have 
eaten  eagerly  still,  but  she  had  no  ravenous  images  of  food. 
Nevertheless,  she  determined  to  beg  for  bread  at  a  baker's 
shop.  Coming  into  the  empty  streets  again,  the  dread  of  ex- 
posing her  solitary  wretchedness  and  the  stains  of  night  upon 
her,  kept  her  back.  When  she  did  venture  near  the  baker's 
shop,  her  sensation  of  weariness,  want  of  washing,  and  gen- 
eral misery,  made  her  feel  a  contrast  to  all  other  women  she 
saw,  that  robbed  her  of  the  necessary  effrontery.  She  pre- 
ferred to  hide  her  head. 

The  morning  hours  went  in  this  conflict.  She  was  between- 
whiles  hungry  and  desperate,  or  stricken  with  shame.  Fa- 
tigue, bringing  the  imperious  necessity  for  rest,  intervened 
as  a  relief.  Emilia  moaned  at  the  weary  length  of  the  light, 
but  when  dusk  fell  and  she  beheld  flame  in  the  lamps,  it 
seemed  to  be  too  sudden  and  she  was  alarmed.  Passive 
despair  had  set  in.  She  felt  sick,  though  not  weak,  and 
the  thought  of  asking  help  had  gone. 

A  street  urchin,  of  the  true  London  species,  in  whom  excess 
of  woollen  comforter  made  up  for  any  marked  scantiness  in 
the  rest  of  his  attire,  came  trotting  the  pavement,  pouring  one 
of  the  favourite  tunes  of  his  native  metropolis  through  the 
tube  of  a  penny-whistle,  from  which  it  did  not  issue  so  dis- 
guised but  that  attentive  ears  might  pronounce  it  the  royal 
march  of  the  Cannibal  Islands.  A  placarded  post  beside  a 
lamp  met  this  musician's  eye ;  and,  still  piping,  he  bent  his 
knees  and  read  the  notification.  Emilia  thought  of  the  Hill- 
ford  and  Ipley  clubmen,  the  big  drum,  the  speeches,  the 
cheers,  and  all  the  wild  strength  that  lay  in  her  that  happy 
morning.  She  watched  the  boy  piping  as  if  he  were  reading 
from  a  score,  and  her  sense  of  humour  was  touched.  "  You 
foolish  boy  !  "  she  said  to  herself  softly.  But  when,  having 
evidently  come  to  the  last  printed  line,  the  boy  rose  and 
pocketed  his  penny-whistle,  Emilia  was  nearly  laughing. 
"  That's  because  he  cannot  turn  over  the  leaf,"  she  said,  and 
stood  by  the  post  till  long  after  the  boy  had  disappeared.  The 
slight  emotion  of  fun  had  restored  to  her  some  of  her  lost 
human  sensations,  and  she  looked  about  for  a  place  where  to 


364  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

indulge  them  undisturbed.  One  of  the  bridges  was  in  sight. 
She  yearned  for  the  solitude  of  the  wharf  beside  it,  and  hurried 
to  the  steps.  To  descend  she  had  to  pass  a  street-organ  and 
a  small  figure  bent  over  it.  "  Sei  buon'  Italiano  ?  "  she  said. 
The  answer  was  a  surly  "  SI."  Emilia  cried  convulsively 
"  Addio!  "  Her  brain  had  become  on  a  sudden  vacant  of  a 
thought,  and  all  she  knew  was  that  she  descended. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

SHE   IS    FOUND 

«  SEI  buon'  Italiana?" 

Across  what  chasm  did  the  words  come  to  her  ? 

It  seemed  but  a  minute,  and  again  many  hours  back,  that 
she  had  asked  that  question  of  a  little  fellow,  who,  if  he  had 
looked. up  and  nodded  would  have  given  her  great  joy,  but 
who  kept  his  face  dark  from  her  and  with  a  sullen  "  Si " 
extinguished  her  last  feeling  of  a  desire  for  companionship 
with  life. 

"  SI,"  she  replied,  quite  as  sullenly,  and  without  looking  up. 

But  when  her  hand  was  taken  and  other  words  were  uttered, 
she  that  had  crouched  there  so  long  between  death  and  life  im- 
movable, loving  neither,  rose  possessed  of  a  passion  for  the 
darkness  and  the  void,  and  struggling  bitterly  with  the  detain- 
ing hand,  crying  for  instant  death.  No  strength  was  in  her 
to  support  the  fury. 

"  Merthyr  Powys  is  with  you,"  said  her  friend,  "  and  will 
never  leave  you." 

"  Will  never  take  me  up  there  ?  "  Emilia  pointed  to  the 
noisy  level  above  them. 

"  Listen,  and  I  will  tell  you  how  I  have  found  you,"  replied 
Merthyr. 

"  Don't  force  me  to  go  up." 

She  spoke  from  the  end  of  her  breath.  Merthyr  feared 
that  it  was  more  than  misery,  even  madness,  afflicting  her. 
He  sat  on  the  wharf -bench  silent  till  she  was  reassured.  But 
at  his  first  words,  the  eager  question  came :  "  You  will  not 
force  me  to  go  up  there  ?  * 


SHE  IS  FOUND  865 

"  No ;  we  can  stay  and  talk  here,"  said  Merthyr.  "  And 
this  is  how  I  have  found  you.  Do  you  suppose  you  have  been 
hidden  from  us  all  this  time  ?  Perhaps  you  fancy  you  do  not 
belong  to  your  friends ?  Well,  I  spoke  to  all  'your children,' 
as  you  used  to  call  them.  Do  you  remember  ?  The  day  before 
yesterday  two  had  seen  you.  You  said  to  one, '  From  Savoy 
or  Piedmont  ? '  He  said, '  From  Savoy ; '  and  you  shook  your 
head :  '  Not  looking  on  Italy ! '  you  said.  This  night  I  roused 
one  of  them,  and  he  stretched  his  finger  down  the  steps,  say- 
ing that  you  had  gone  down  there.  '  Sei  buon'  Italiano  ? ' 
you  said.  And  that  is  how  I  have  found  you.  Sei  buon' 
Italiana  ?  " 

Emilia  let  her  hand  rest  in  Merthyr's,  wondering  to  think 
that  there  should  be  no  absolute  darkness  for  a  creature  to 
escape  into  while  living.  A  trembling  came  on  her.  "  Let 
me  look  over  at  the  water,"  she  said;  and  Merthyr,  who 
trusted  her  even  in  that  extremity,  allowed  her  to  lean  for- 
ward, and  felt  her  grasp  grow  moist  in  his,  till  she  turned 
back  with  shudders,  giving  him  both  her  hands.  "A  drowned 
woman  looks  so  dreadful ! "  Her  speech  was  faint  as  she 
begged  to  be  taken  away  from  that  place.  Merthyr  put  his 
hand  to  her  arm-pit,  sustaining  her  steps.  As  they  neared 
the  level  where  men  were,  she  looked  behind  her  and  real- 
ized the  black  terrors  she  had  just  been  blindly  handling. 
Fright  sped  her  limbs  for  a  second  or  two,  and  then  her 
whole  weight  hung  upon  Merthyr.  He  held  her  in  both 
arms,  thinking  that  she  had  swooned,  but  she  murmured: 
"  Have  you  heard  that  my  voice  has  gone  ? 

"  If  you  have  suffered,  I  do  not  wonder,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  useless.     My  voice  is  dead." 

"Useless  to  your  friends?  Tush,  my  little  Emilia! 
Sandra  mia!  Don't  you  know  that  while  you  love  your 
friends  that's  all  they  want  of  you  ? " 

"Oh!"  she  moaned;  "the  gas-lamp  hurts  me.  What  a 
noise  there  is!" 

"  We  shall  soon  get  away  from  the  noise." 

"No;  I  like  it;  but  not  the  light  Oh,  my  feet!  — why 
are  you  walking  still  ?  What  friends  ?  " 

"  For  instance,  myself." 

"  You  knew  of  my  wandering  about  London  ! 
me  believe  m  heaven.    I  can 't  bear  to  thinlr  «f  hem*  unseen. n 


366  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"  This  morning, "  said  Merthyr,  "  I  saw  the  policeman  in 
whose  house  you  have  been  staying." 

Emilia  bowed  her  head  to  the  mystery  by  which  this 
friend  was  endowed  to  be  cognizant  of  her  actions.  "  I  feel 
that  I  have  not  seen  the  streets  for  years.  If  it  were  not 
for  you  I  should  fall  down.  —  Oh !  do  you  understand  that 
my  voice  has  quite  gone?" 

Merthyr  perceived  her  anxiety  to  be  that  she  might  not 
be  taken  on  doubtful  terms.  "Your  hand  hasn't,"  he  said, 
pressing  it,  and  so  gratified  her  with  a  concrete  image  of 
something  that  she  could  still  bestow  upon  a  friend.  To 
this  she  clung  while  the  noisy  wheels  bore  her  through 
London,  till  her  weak  body  failed  to  keep  courage  in  her 
breast,  and  she  wept  and  came  closer  to  Merthyr.  He  who 
supposed  that  her  recent  despair  and  present  tears  were  for 
the  loss  of  her  lover,  gave  happily  more  comfort  than  he 
took.  "  When  old  gentlemen  choose  to  interest  themselves 
about  very  young  ladies,"  he  called  upon  his  humorous  phi- 
losophy to  observe  internally,  as  men  do  to  forestall  the  pos- 
sible cynic  external ;  —  and  the  rest  of  the  sentence  was 
acted  under  his  eyes  by  the  figures  of  three  persons.  But 
there  she  was,  lying  within  his  arm,  rescued,  the  creature 
whom  he  had  found  filling  his  heart,  when  lost,  and  whom 
he  thought  one  of  the  most  hopeful  of  the  women  of  earth ! 
He  thanked  God  for  bare  facts.  She  lay  against  him  with 
her  eyelids  softly  joined,  and  as  he  felt  the  breathing  of  her 
body,  he  marvelled  to  think  how  matter-of-fact  they  had 
both  been  on  the  brink  of  a  tragedy,  and  how  naturally  she 
had,  as  it  were,  argued  herself  up  to  the  gates  of  death.  For 
want  of  what?  "  My  sister  may  supply  it, "  thought  Merthyr. 

"  Oh !  that  river  is  like  a  great  black  snake  with  a  sick  eye, 
and  will  come  round  me !  "  said  Emilia,  talking  as  from  sleep; 
then  started,  with  fright  in  her  face:  "Oh!  my  hunger 
again ! " 

"  Hunger ! "  said  he,  horrified. 

"  It  comes  worse  than  ever, "  she  moaned.  "  I  was  half 
dead  just  now,  and  didn't  feel  it.  There's  —  there's  no 
pain  in  death.  But  this  —  it's  like  fire  and  frost!  I  feel 
being  eaten  up.  Give  me  something." 

Merthyr  set  his  teeth  and  enveloped  her  in  a  tight  hug 
that  relieved  her  from  the  sharper  pangs;  and  so  held  her, 


DEFECTION   OF  MR.   PERICLES  867 

the  tears  bursting  through  his  shut  eyelids,  till  at  the  first 
hotel  they  reached  he  managed  to  get  food  for  her.  She 
gave  a  little  gasping  cry  when  he  put  bread  through  the 
window  of  the  cab.  Bit  by  bit  he  handed  her  the  morsels. 
It  was  impossible  to  procure  broth.  When  they  drove  on, 
she  did  not  complain  of  suffering,  but  her  chest  rose  and 
fell  many  times  heavily.  She  threw  him  out  in  the  reading 
of  her  character,  after  a  space,  by  excusing  herself  for  hav- 
ing eaten  with  such  eagerness;  and  it  was  long  before  he 
learnt  what  Wilfrid's  tyrannous  sentiment  had  done  to  this 
simple  nature.  He  understood  better  the  fear  she  expressed 
of  meeting  Georgiana.  Nevertheless,  she  exhibited  none  on 
entering  the  house,  and  returned  Georgiana's  embrace  with 
what  strength  was  left  to  her. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

DEFECTION  OP   MB.    PERICLES   FROM  THE  BROOKFIELD   CIRCLE 

UP  the  centre  aisle  of  Hillford  Church,  the  Tinleys  (late 
as  usual)  were  seen  trooping  for  morning  service  in  mid- 
winter. There  was  a  man  in  the  rear  known  to  be  a  man 
by  the  sound  of  his  boots  and  measure  of  his  stride,  for  the 
ladies  of  Brookfield,  having  rejected  the  absurd  pretensions 
of  Albert  Tinley,  could  not  permit  curiosity  to  encounter 
the  risk  of  meeting  his  gaze  by  turning  their  heads.  So, 
with  charitable  condescension  they  returned  the  slight 
church  nod  of  prim  Miss  Tinley  passing,  of  the  detestable 
Laura  Tinley,  of  affected  Rose  Tinley  (whose  complexion 
was  that  of  a  dust-bin),  and  of  Madeline  Tinley  (too  young 
for  a  character  beyond  what  the  name  bestowed),  and  then 
they  arranged  their  prayer-books,  and  apparently  speculated 
as  to  the  possible  text  that  morning  to  be  given  forth  from 
the  pulpit.  But  it  seemed  to  them  all  that  an  exceedingly 
bulky  object  had  passed  as  guardian  of  the  light-footed  dam- 
sels preceding  him.  Though  none  of  the  ladies  had  looked 
up  as  he  passed,  they  were  conscious  of  a  stature  and  a  cir- 
cumference which  they  had  deemed  to  be  entirely  beyond 


368  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

the  reach  of  the  Tinleys,  and  a  scornful  notion  of  the  Tin- 
leys  having  hired  a  guardsman,  made  Arabella  smile  at  the 
stretch  of  her  contempt,  that  could  help  her  to  conceive  the 
ironic  possibility.  Relieved  on  the  suspicion  that  Albert 
•was  in  attendance  of  his  sisters,  they  let  their  eyes  fall 
calmly  on  the  Tinley  pew.  Could  two  men  upon  this  earthly 
sphere  possess  such  a  bearskin?  There  towered  the  shoul- 
ders of  Mr.  Pericles ;  his  head  looking  diminished  by  the 
hugeous  collar.  Arabella  felt  a  seizure  of  her  hand  from 
Adela's  side.  She  placed  her  book  open  before  her,  and 
stared  at  the  pulpit.  From  neither  of  the  three  of  Brook- 
field  could  Laura's  observation  extract  a  sign  of  the  utter 
astonishment  she  knew  they  must  be  experiencing ;  and  had 
it  not  been  for  the  ingenuous  broad  whisper  of  Mrs.  Chump, 
which  sounded  toward  the  verge  even  of  her  conception  of 
possibilities,  the  Tinleys  would  not  have  been  gratified  by 
the  first  public  display  of  the  prize  they  had  wrested  from 
the  Poles. 

"Mr.  Paricles  —  oh!"  went  Mrs.  Chump,  and  a  great 
many  pews  were  set  in  commotion. 

Forthwith  she  bent  over  Cornelia's  lap,  and  Cornelia, 
surveying  her  placidly,  had  to  murmur,  "By-and-by;  by- 
and-by." 

"  But,  did  ye  see  'm,  my  dear?  and  a  forr'ner  in  a  Protes- 
tant Church!  And  such  a  forr'ner  as  he  is,  to  be  sure! 
And,  ye  know,  ye  said  he'd  naver  come  with  you,  and  it's 
them  creatures  ye  don't  like.  Corrnelia!  " 

"The  service  commences, "  remarked  that  lady,  standing  up. 

Many  eyes  were  on  Mr.  Pericles,  who  occasionally  in- 
spected the  cornices  and  corbels  and  stained  glass  to  right 
and  left,  or  detected  a  young  lady  staring  at  him,  or  antici- 
pated her  going  to  stare,  and  put  her  to  confusion  by  a  sharp 
turn  of  his  head,  and  then  a  sniff  and  smoothing  down  of 
his  moustache.  But  he  did  not  once  look  at  the  Brookfield 
pew.  By  hazard  his  eye  ranged  over  it,  and  after  the  first 
performance  of  this  trick  he  would  have  found  the  ladies  a 
match  for  him,  even  if  he  had  sought  to  challenge  their 
eyes.  They  were  constrained  to  admit  that  Laura  Tinley 
managed  him  cleverly.  She  made  him  hold  a  book  and 
appear  respectably  devout.  She  got  him  down  in  good  time 
when  seats  were  taken,  and  up  again,  without  much  trans- 


DEFECTION  OF  MB.   PERICLES  369 

parent  persuasion.  The  first  notes  of  the  organ  were  seen 
to  agitate  the  bearskin.  Laura  had  difficulty  to  induce  the 
man  to  rise  for  the  hymn,  and  when  he  had  listened  to  the 
intoning  of  a  verse,  Mr.  Pericles  suddenly  bent,  as  if  he  had 
snapped  in  two:  nor  could  Laura  persuade  him  to  rejoin  the 
present  posture  of  the  congregation.  Then  only  did  Laura, 
to  cover  her  failure,  turn  the  subdued  light  of  a  merry  smile 
upon  the  Brookfield  pew. 

The  smile  was  noticed  by  Apprehension  sitting  in  the 
corner  of  one  eye,  and  it  was  likewise  known  that  Laura's 
chagrin  at  finding  that  she  was  not  being  watched  affected 
her  visibly.  At  the  termination  of  the  sermon,  the  ladies 
bowed  their  heads  a  short  space,  and  placing  Mrs.  Chump 
in  front  drove  her  out,  so  that  her  exclamations  of  wonder- 
ment, and  affectedly  ostentatious  gaspings  of  sympathy  for 
Brookfield,  were  heard  by  few.  On  they  hurried,  straight 
and  fast  to  Brookfield.  Mr.  Pole  was  talking  to  Tracy  Run- 
ningbrook  at  the  gate.  The  ladies  cut  short  his  needless 
apology  to  the  young  man  for  not  being  found  in  church 
that  day,  by  asking  questions  of  Tracy.  The  first  related 
to  their  brother's  whereabouts ;  the  second  to  Emilia's  con- 
dition. Tracy  had  no  time  to  reply.  Mrs.  Chump  had 
identified  herself  with  Brookfield  so  warmly  that  the  defec- 
tion of  Mr.  Pericles  was  a  fine  legitimate  excitement  to  her. 
"  I  hate  'm !  "  she  cried.  "  I  pos'tively  hate  the  man !  And 
he  to  go  to  church !  A  pretty  figure  for  an  angel  —  he,  now! 
But,  my  dears,  we  cann't  let  anuybody  else  have  'm.  Shorrt 
of  his  bein'  drowned  or  killed,  we  must  intrigue  to  keep  the 
wretch  to  ourselves." 

"  Oh,  dear ! "  said  Adela  impatiently. 

"  Well,  and  I  didn't  say  to  myself,  ye  little  jealous  thing! 
retorted  Mrs.  Chump. 

"Indeed,  ma'am,  you  are  welcome  to  him." 

"And  indeed,  miss,  I  don't  want  'm.  And,  perhaps,  ye 
were  flirtin'  all  the  fun  out  of  him  on  board  the  yacht,  and 
got  tired  of  'm;  and  that's  why." 

Adela  said:  "Thank  you,"  with  exasperating  sedateness, 
which  provoked  an  intemperate  outburst  from  Mrs.  Chump. 
"  Sunday !  Sunday ! "  cried  Mr.  Pole. 

"Ain't  I  the  first  to  remember  ut,  Pole?    And  didn  t 
get  up  airly  so  as  to  go  to  church  and  have  my  conscience 


370  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

qui't,  and  'stead  of  that  I  come  out  full  of  evil  passions,  all 
for  the  sake  o'  these  ungrateful  garls  that's  always  where 
ye  cann't  find  'em.  Why,  if  they  was  to  be  married  at  the 
altar,  they'd  stare  and  be  'ffendud  if  ye  asked  them  if  they 
was  thinking  of  their  husbands,  they  would!  'Oh,  dear, 
no!  and  ye're  mistaken,  and  we're  thinkin'  o'  the  coal- 
scuttle in  the  back  parlour, ' —  or  somethin'  about  souls,  if 
not  coals.  There's  their  answer.  What  did  ye  do  with 
Mr.  Paricles  on  board  the  yacht?  Aha!  " 

"What's  this  about  Pericles?"  said  Mr.  Pole. 

"Oh,  nothing,  Papa,"  returned  Adela. 

"  Nothing,  do  ye  call  ut !  "  said  Mrs.  Chump.  "  And,  may- 
hap, good  cause  too.  Didn't  ye  tease  'm,  now,  on  board  the 
yacht?  Now,  did  he  go  on  board  the  yacht  at  all?" 

"  I  should  think  you  ought  to  know  that  as  well  as  Adela, " 
said  Mr.  Pole. 

Adela  interposed,  hurriedly:  "All  this,  my  dear  Papa, 
is  because  Mr.  Pericles  has  thought  proper  to  visit  the  Tin- 
leys'  pew.  Who  would  complain  how  or  where  he  does  it, 
so  long  as  the  duty  is  fulfilled?  " 

Mr.  Pole  stared,  muttering :  "  The  Tinleys !  " 

"  She's  botherin'  of  ye,  Pole,  the  puss !  "  said  Mrs.  Chump, 
certain  that  she  had  hit  a  weak  point  in  that  mention  of  the 
yacht.  "  Ask  her  what  sorrt  of  behaviour " 

"And  he  didn't  speak  to  any  of  you?  "  said  Mr.  Pole. 

"No,  Papa." 

"  He  looked  the  other  way?  " 

"He  did  us  that  honour." 

"Ask  her,  Pole,  how  she  behaved  to  'm  on  board  the 
yacht,"  cried  Mrs.  Chump.  "  Oh!  there  was  flirtin',  flirtin' ! 
And  go  and  see  what  the  noble  poat  says  of  tying  up  in 
sacks  and  plumpin'  of  poor  bodies  of  women  into  forty 
fathoms  by  them  Turks  and  Greeks,  all  because  of  jeal'sy. 
So,  they  make  a  woman  in  earnest  there,  the  wretches,  'cause 
she  cann't  have  onny  of  her  jokes.  Didn't  ye  tease  Mr. 
Paricles  on  board  the  yacht,  Ad'la?  Now,  was  he  there?" 

"Martha!  you're  a  fool!  "  said  Mr.  Pole,  looking  the  vic- 
tim of  one  of  his  fits  of  agitation.  "  Who  knows  whether 
he  was  there  better  than  you?  You'll  be  forgetting  soon 
that  we've  ever  dined  together.  I  hate  to  see  a  woman  so 
absurd!  There  —  nevermind!  Go  in:  take  off  bonnet  — 


DEFECTION   OF  ME.   PERICLBS  371 

something— anything!  only  I  can't  bear  folly!     Eh,  Mr 
Kunningbrook?" 

"  'Deed,  Pole,  and  ye're  mad."  Mrs.  Chump  crossed  her 
hands  to  reply  with  full  repose.  "I'd  like  to  know  how 
I'm  to  know  what  I  naver  said." 

The  scene  was  growing  critical.  Adela  consulted  the  eyes 
of  her  sisters,  which  plainly  said  that  this  was  her  peculiar 
scrape.  Adela  ended  it  by  going  up  to  Mrs.  Chump,  taking 
her  by  the  shoulders,  and  putting  a  kiss  upon  her  forehead. 
"Now  you  will  see  better,"  she  said.  "Don't  you  know 
Mr.  Pericles  was  not  with  us?  As  surely  as  he  was  with 
the  Tinleys  this  morning ! " 

"  And  a  nice  morning  it  is ! "  ejaculated  Mr.  Pole,  trotting 
off  hurriedly. 

"Does  Pole  think "   Mrs.  Chump  murmured,  with 

reference  to  her  voyaging  on  the  yacht.     The  kiss  had 
bewildered  her  sequent  sensations. 

"He  does  think,  and  will  think,  and  must  think,"  Adela 
prattled  some  persuasive  infantine  nonsense:  her  soul  all 
the  while  in  revolt  against  her  sisters,  who  left  her  the  work 
to  do,  and  took  the  position  of  spectators  and  critics,  con- 
demning an  effort  they  had  not  courage  to  attempt. 

"By  the  way,  I  have  to  congratulate  a  friend  of  mine," 
said  Tracy,  selecting  Adela  for  an  ironical  bow. 

"Then  it  is  Captain  Gambier,"  cried  Mrs.  Chump,  as  if  a 
whole  revelation  had  burst  on  her.  Adela  blushed.  "  Oh ! 
and  what  was  that  I  heard?"  continued  the  aggravating 
woman. 

Adela  flashed  her  eyes  round  on  her  sisters.  Even  then 
they  left  her  without  aid,  their  feeling  being  that  she  had 
debased  the  house  by  her  familiarity  with  this  woman  before 
Tracy. 

"Stay!  didn't  ye  both "  Mrs.  Chump  was  saying. 

"Yes?"  —  Adela  passed  by  her  —  "only  in  your  ear* 
alone,  you  know!"  At  which  hint  Mrs.  Chump  gleefully 
turned  and  followed  her.  A  rumour  was  prevalent  of  some 
misadventure  to  Adela  and  the  captain  on  board  the  yacht 
Arabella  saw  her  depart,  thinking,  "  How  singular  is  her 
propensity  to  imitate  me ! "  for  the  affirmative  uttered  in  the 
tone  of  interrogation  was  quite  Arabella's  own;  as  also  oc- 
casionally the  negative,  —  the  negative,  however,  suiting 


372  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

the  musical  indifference  of  the  sound,  and  its  implied  calm 
breast. 

"  As  for  Pericles,"  said  Tracy,  "  you  need  not  wonder  that 
the  fellow  prays  in  other  pews  than  yours.  By  heaven !  he 
may  pray  and  pray :  I'd  send  him  to  Hades  with  an  epigram 
in  his  heart ! '' 

From  Tracy  the  ladies  learnt  that  Wilfrid  had  inflicted 
public  chastisement  upon  Mr.  Pericles  for  saying  a  false 
thing  of  Emilia.  "  He  danced  the  prettiest  pas  seul  that  was 
ever  footed  by  debutant  on  the  hot  iron  plates  of  Purgatory." 
They  dared  not  ask  what  it  was  that  Mr.  Pericles  had  said, 
but  Tracy  was  so  vehement  on  the  subject  of  his  having  met 
his  deserts,  that  they  partly  guessed  it  to  bear  some  relation 
to  their  sex's  defencelessness,  and  they  approved  their 
brother's  work. 

Sir  Twickenham  and  Captain  G-ambier  dined  at  Brookfield 
that  day.  However  astonishing  it  might  be  to  one  who  knew 
his  character  and  triumphs,  the  captain  was  a  butterfly 
netted,  and  was  on  the  highroad  to  an  exhibition  of  himself 
pinned,  with  his  wings  outspread.  During  the  service  of  the 
table  Tracy  relieved  Adela  from  Mrs.  Chump's  inadverten- 
cies and  little  bits  of  feminine  malice,  but  he  could  not  help 
the  captain,  who  blundered  like  a  schoolboy  in  her  rough 
hands.  It  was  noted  that  Sir  Twickenham  reserved  the 
tolerating  smile  he  once  had  for  her.  Mr.  Pole's  nervous 
fretf ulness  had  increased.  He  complained  in  occasional  un- 
derbreaths,  correcting  himself  immediately  with  a  "  No,  no ! " 
and  blinking  briskly. 

But  after  dinner  came  the  time  when  the  painf ullest  scene 
was  daily  enacted.  Mrs.  Chump  drank  Port  freely.  To  drink 
it  fondly,  it  was  necessary  that  she  should  have  another  rosy 
wineglass  to  nod  to,  and  Mr.  Pole,  whose  taste  for  wine  had 
been  weakened,  took  this  post  as  his  duty.  The  watchful, 
pinched  features  of  the  poor  pale  little  man  bloomed  un- 
naturally, and  his  unintelligible  eyes  sparkled  as  he  emptied 
his  glass.  His  daughters  knew  that  he  drank,  not  for  his 
pleasure,  but  for  their  benefit ;  that  he  might  sustain  Martha 
Chump  in  the  delusion  that  he  was  a  fitting  bridegroom,  and 
with  her  money  save  them  from  ruin.  Each  evening,  with 
remorse  that  blotted  all  perception  of  the  tragic  comicality  of 
the  show,  they  saw  him,  in  his  false  strength  and  his  anxiety 


DEFECTION  OF  ME.   PERICLES  878 

concerning  his  pulse's  play,  act  this  part  The  recurring 
words,  "  Now,  Martha,  here's  the  Port,"  sent  a  cold  wave 
through  their  blood.  They  knew  what  the  doctor  remarked 
on  the  effect  of  that  Port.  "  111 ! "  Mrs.  Chump  would  cry, 
when  she  saw  him  wink  after  sipping ;  "  you,  Pole !  what  do 
they  say  of  ye,  ye  deer ! "  and  she  returned  the  wink,  the 
ladies  looking  on.  Not  to  drink  a  proper  quantum  of  Port, 
when  Port  was  on  the  table,  was,  in  Mrs.  Chump's  eyes,  mean 
for  a  man.  Even  Chump,  she  would  say,  was  master  of  his 
bottle,  and  thought  nothing  of  it.  "  Who  does  ?  "  cried  her 
present  suitor,  and  the  Port  ebbed,  and  his  cheeks  grew 
crimson. 

This  frightful  rivalry  with  the  ghost  of  Alderman  Chump 
continued  night  after  night.  The  rapturous  Martha  was 
incapable  of  observing  that  if  she  drank  with  a  ghost  in 
memory,  in  reality  she  drank  with  nothing  better  than  an 
animated  puppet.  The  nights  ended  with  Mr.  Pole  eithei 
sleeping  in  his  arm-chair  (upon  which  occasions  one  daughtei 
watched  him  and  told  dreadful  tales  of  his  waking),  or  stag- 
gering to  bed,  debating  on  the  stairs  between  tea  and  brandy, 
complaining  of  a  loss  of  sensation  at  his  knee-cap,  or  elbow, 
or  else  rubbing  his  head  and  laughing  hysterically.  His 
bride  was  not  at  such  moments  observant  No  wonder 
Wilfrid  kept  out  of  the  way,  if  he  had  not  better  occupation 
elsewhere.  The  ladies,  in  their  utter  anguish,  after  inveigh- 
ing against  the  baneful  Port,  had  begged  their  father  to  de- 
lay no  more  to  marry  the  woman.  "  Why  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pole, 
sharply ;  "  what  do  you  want  me  to  marry  her  for  ?  "  They 
were  obliged  to  keep  up  the  delusion,  and  said,  "  Because  she 
seems  suited  to  you  as  a  companion."  That  satisfied  him. 
"  Oh !  we  won't  be  in  a  hurry,"  he  said,  and  named  a  dav 
within  a  month ;  and  not  liking  their  unready  faces,  laughed, 
and  dismissed  the  idea  aloud,  as  if  he  had  not  earnestly  been 
entertaining  it. 

The  ladies  of  Brookfield  held  no  more  their  happy,  energefa 
midnight  consultations.  They  had  begun  to  crave  for  sleep 
and  a  snatch  of  f orgetfulness,  the  scourge  being  daily  on  their 
flesh:  and  they  had  now  no  plans  to  discuss;  they  had  no 
distant  horizon  of  low  vague  lights  that  used  ever  to  be  be- 
yond their  morrow.  They  kissed  at  the  bedroom  door  of  one, 
and  separated.  Silence  was  their  only  protection  to  the  NIC* 


374  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

Feelings,  now  that  Fine  Shades  had  become  impossible. 
Adela  had  almost  made  herself  distinct  from  her  sisters  since 
the  yachting  expedition.  She  had  grown  severely  careful 
of  the  keys  of  her  writing-desk,  and  would  sometimes  slip 
the  bolt  of  her  bedroom  door,  and  answer  "  Eh  ?  "  dubiously 
in  tone,  when  her  sisters  had  knocked  twice,  and  had  said 
'•'  Open  "  once.  The  house  of  Brookfield  showed  those  divi- 
sional rents  which  an  admonitory  quaking  of  the  earth  will 
create.  Neither  sister  was  satisfied  with  the  other.  Cor- 
nelia's treatment  of  Sir  Twickenham  was  almost  openly 
condemned,  but  at  the  same  time  it  seemed  to  Arabella  that 
the  baronet  was  receiving  more  than  the  necessary  amount 
of  consolation  from  the  bride  of  Captain  Gambier,  and  that 
yacht  habits  and  moralities  had  been  recently  imported  to 
Brookfield.  Adela,  for  her  part,  looked  sadly  on  Arabella, 
and  longed  to  tell  her,  as  she  told  Cornelia,  that  if  she  con- 
tinued to  play  Freshfield  Sumner  purposely  against  Edward 
Buxley,  she  might  lose  both.  Cornelia  quietly  measured 
accusations  and  judged  impartially;  her  mind  being  too 
full  to  bring  any  personal  observations  to  bear.  She  said, 
perhaps,  less  than  she  would  have  said,  had  she  not  known 
that  hourly  her  own  Nice  Feelings  had  to  put  up  a  petition 
for  Fine  Shades  :  had  she  not  known,  indeed,  that  her  con- 
duct would  soon  demand  from  her  sisters  an  absolutely 
merciful  interpretation.  For  she  was  now  simply  attract- 
ing Sir  Twickenham  to  Brookfield  as  a  necessary  medicine 
to  her  Papa.  Since  Mrs.  Chump's  return,  however,  Mr.  Pole 
had  spoken  cheerfully  of  himself,  and,  by  innuendo  empha- 
sized, had  imparted  that  his  mercantile  prospects  were 
brigb-ter.  In  fact,  Cornelia  half  thought  that  he  must  have 
been  pretending  bankruptcy  to  gain  his  end  in  getting  the 
consent  of  his  daughters  to  receive  the  woman.  She,  and 
Adela  likewise,  began  to  suspect  that  the  parental  trans- 
parency was  a  little  mysterious,  and  that  there  is,  after 
all,  more  than  we  see  in  something  that  we  see  through. 
They  were  now  in  danger  of  supposing  that  because  the  old 
man  had  possibly  deceived  them  to  some  extent,  he  had  de- 
ceived them  altogether.  But  was  not  the  after-dinner  scene 
too  horribly  true?  Were  not  his  hands  moist  and  cold 
while  the  forehead  was  crimson?  And  could  a  human 
creature  feel  at  his  own  pulse,  and  look  into  vacancy  with 


DEFECTION   OF  MR.   PERICLES  876 

that  intense  apprehensive  look,  and  be  but  an  actor  ?  They 
could  not  think  so.  But  his  conditions  being  dependent 
upon  them,  the  ladies  felt  in  their  hearts  a  spring  of  abso- 
lute rebellion  when  the  call  for  fresh  sacrifices  came. 
Though  they  did  not  grasp  the  image,  they  had  a  feeling 
that  he  was  nourished  bit  by  bit  by  everything  they  held 
dear ;  and  though  they  loved  him,  and  were  generous,  they 
had  begun  to  ask,  "  What  next  ?  " 

The  ladies  were  at  a  dead-lock,  and  that  the  heart  is  the 
father  of  our  histories,  I  am  led  to  think  when  I  look 
abroad  on  families  stagnant  because  of  so  weak  a  motion 
of  the  heart.  There  are  those  who  have  none  at  all ;  the 
mass  of  us  are  moved  from  the  propulsion  of  the  toes  of 
the  Fates.  But  the  ladies  of  Brookfield  had  hearts  lively 
enough  to  get  them  into  scrapes.  The  getting  out  of  them, 
or  getting  on  at  all,  was  left  to  Providence.  They  were  at 
a  dead-lock,  for  Arabella,  flattered  as  she  was  by  Freshfield 
Sumner's  wooing,  could  not  openly  throw  Edward  over, 
whom  indeed  she  thought  that  she  liked  the  better  of  the 
two,  though  his  letters  had  not  so  wide  an  intellectual 
range.  Her  father  was  irritably  anxious  that  she  should 
close  with  Edward.  Adela  could  not  move :  at  least,  not 
openly.  Cornelia  might  have  taken  an  initiative ;  but  ten- 
derness for  her  father's  health  had  hitherto  restrained  her, 
and  she  temporized  with  Sir  Twickenham  on  the  noblest 
of  principles.  She  was,  by  the  devotion  of  her  conduct, 
enabled  to  excuse  herself  so  far  that  she  could  even  fish  up 
an  excuse  in  the  shape  of  the  effort  she  had  made  to  find 
him  entertaining :  as  if  the  said  effort  should  really  be  re- 
payment enough  to  him  for  his  assiduous  and  most  futile 
suit.  One  deep  grief  sat  on  Cornelia's  mind.  She  had 
heard  from  Lady  Gosstre  that  there  was  something  like 
madness  in  the  Barrett  family.  She  had  consented  to  meet 
Sir  Purcell  clandestinely  (after  debate  on  his  claim  to  such 
a  sacrifice  on  her  part),  and  if,  on  those  occasions,  her  lover 
tone  was  raised,  it  gave  her  a  tremour.  And  he  had  of  late 
appeared  to  lose  his  noble  calm ;  he  had  spoken  (it  mig 
almost  be  interpreted)  as  if  he  doubted  her.  Once,  * 
she  had  mentioned  her  care  for  her  father,  he  had  en 
out  upon  the  name  of  father  with  violence,  looking  unlike 
himself. 


376  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

His  condemnation  of  the  world,  too,  was  not  so  Christian 
as  it  had  been;  it  betrayed  what  the  vulgar  would  call 
spite,  and  was  not  all  compassed  in  his  peculiar  smooth 
shrug  —  expressive  of  a  sort  of  border-land  between  con- 
tempt and  charity:  which  had  made  him  wear  in  her  sight 
all  the  superiority  which  the  former  implies,  with  a  con- 
siderable share  of  the  benign  complacency  of  the  latter. 
This  had  gone.  He  had  been  sarcastic  even  to  her;  saying 
once,  and  harshly :  "  Have  you  a  will  ? "  Personally  she 
liked  the  poor  organist  better  than  the  poor  baronet,  though 
he  had  less  merit.  It  was  unpleasant  in  her  present  mood 
to  be  told  "  that  we  have  come  into  this  life  to  fashion  for 
ourselves  souls  ; "  and  that  "  whosoever  cannot  decide  is  a 
soulless  wretch  fit  but  to  pass  into  vapour."  He  appeared 
to  have  ceased  to  make  his  generous  allowances  for  difficult 
situations.  A  senseless  notion  struck  Cornelia,  that  with 
the  baronetcy  he  had  perhaps  inherited  some  of  the  madness 
of  his  father. 

The  two  were  in  a  dramatic  tangle  of  the  Nice  Feelings : 
worth  a  glance  as  we  pass  on.  She  wished  to  say  to  him, 
"  You  are  unjust  to  my  perplexities ; "  and  he  to  her,  "  You 
fail  in  your  dilemma  through  cowardice."  Instead  of  utter- 
ing which,  they  chid  themselves  severally  for  entertaining 
such  coarse  ideas  of  their  idol.  Doubtless  they  were  silent 
from  consideration  for  one  another :  but  I  must  add,  out  of 
extreme  tenderness  for  themselves  likewise.  There  are 
people  who  can  keep  the  facts  that  front  them  absent  from 
their  contemplation  by  not  framing  them  in  speech;  and 
much  benevolence  of  the  passive  order  may  be  traced  to  a 
disinclination  to  inflict  pain  upon  oneself.  "My  duty  to 
my  father,"  being  cited  by  Cornelia,  Sir  Purcell  had  to 
contend  with  it. 

"  True  love  excludes  no  natural  duty,"  she  said. 

And  he :  "  Love  discerns  unerringly  what  is  and  what  is 
not  duty." 

"  In  the  case  of  a  father,  can  there  be  any  doubt  ?  "  she 
asked,  the  answer  shining  in  her  confident  aspect. 

"  There  are  many  things  that  fathers  may  demand  of  us ! " 
he  interjected  bitterly. 

She  had  a  fatal  glimpse  here  of  the  false  light  in  which 
his  resentment  coloured  the  relations  between  fathers  and 


DEFECTION  OF  MR.   PERICLES  877 

children;  and,  deeming  him  incapable  of  conducting  this 
argument,  she  felt  quite  safe  in  her  opposition,  up  to  a  point 
where  feeling  stopped  her. 

"  Devotedness  to  a  father  I  must  conceive  to  be  a  child's 
first  duty,"  she  said. 

Sir  Purcell  nodded :  "  Yes ;  a  child's ! " 

"  Does  not  history  give  the  higher  praise  to  children  who 
sacrifice  themselves  for  their  parents  ?  "  asked  Cornelia. 

And  he  replied :  "  So,  you  seek  to  be  fortified  in  such 
matters  by  history ! " 

Courteous  sneers  silenced  her.  Feeling  told  her  she  was 
in  the  wrong ;  but  the  beauty  of  her  sentiment  was  not  to 
be  contested,  and  therefore  she  thought  that  she  might  dis- 
trust feeling:  and  she  went  against  it  somewhat;  at  first 
veiy  tentatively,  for  it  caused  pain.  She  marked  a  line 
where  the  light  of  duty  should  not  encroach  on  the  light  of 
our  human  desires.  "But  love  for  a  parent  is  not  merely 
duty,"  thought  Cornelia.  "  It  is  also  love ;  —  and  is  it  not 
the  least  selfish  love  ?  " 

Step  by  step  Sir  Purcell  watched  the  clouding  of  her  mind 
with  false  conceits,  and  knew  it  to  be  owing  to  the  heart's 
want  of  vigour.  Again  and  again  he  was  tempted  to  lay  an 
irreverent  hand  on  the  veil  his  lady  walked  in,  and  make  her 
bare  to  herself.  Partly  in  simple  bitterness,  he  refrained : 
but  the  chief  reason  was  that  he  had  no  comfort  in  giving  a 
shock  to  his  own  state  of  deception.  He  would  have  had  to 
open  a  dark  closet ;  to  disentangle  and  bring  to  light  what 
lay  in  an  undistinguishable  heap ;  to  disfigure  her  to  her- 
self, and  share  in  her  changed  eyesight ;  possibly  to  be,  or 
seem,  coarse :  so  he  kept  the  door  of  it  locked,  admitting 
sadly  in  his  meditation  that  there  was  such  a  place,  and 
saying  all  the  while :  "  If  I  were  not  poor ! "  He  saw  her 
running  into  the  shelter  of  egregious  sophisms,  till  it  became 
an  effort  to  him  to  preserve  his  reverence  for  her  and  the 
sex  she  represented.  Finally  he  imagined  that  he  perceived 
an  idea  coming  to  growth  in  her,  no  other  than  this :  "  That 
in  duty  to  her  father  she  might  sacrifice  herself,  though 
still  loving  him  to  whom  she*  had  given  her  heart;  thus 
ennobling  her  love  for  father  and  for  lover."  With  a  wicked 
ingenuity  he  tracked  her  forming  notions,  encouraged  them 
on,  and  provoked  her  enthusiasm  by  putting  an  ironical 


378  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

question:  "Whether  the  character  of  the  soul  -was  sub- 
dued and  shaped  by  the  endurance  and  the  destiny  of  the 
perishable  ?  " 

"  Oh !  no,  no !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  It  cannot  be,  or  what 
comfort  should  we  have  ?  " 

Few  men  knew  better  that  when  lovers'  sentiments  stray 
away  from  feeling,  they  are  to  be  suspected  of  a  disloy- 
alty. Yet  he  admired  the  tone  she  took.  He  had  got  an 
'  ideal '  of  her  which  it  was  pleasanter  to  magnify  than  to 
distort.  An  '  ideal '  is  so  arbitrary,  that  if  you  only  doubt 
of  its  being  perfection,  it  will  vanish  and  never  come  again. 
Sir  Purcell  refused  to  doubt.  He  blamed  himself  for  hav- 
ing thought  it  possible  to  doubt,  and  this,  when  all  the  time 
he  knew. 

Through  endless  labyrinths  of  delusion  these  two  unhappy 
creatures  might  be  traced,  were  it  profitable.  Down  what  a 
vale  of  little  intricate  follies  should  we  be  going,  lighted  by 
one  ghastly  conclusion !  At  times,  struggling  from  the  midst 
of  her  sophisms,  Cornelia  prayed  her  lover  would  claim  her 
openly,  and  so  nerve  her  to  a  pitch  of  energy  that  would 
clinch  the  ruinous  debate.  Forgetting  that  she  was  an 
'  ideal '  —  the  accredited  mistress  of  pure  wisdom  and  of  the 
power  of  deciding  rightly  —  she  prayed  to  be  dealt  with  as 
a  thoughtless  person,  and  one  of  the  herd  of  women.  She 
felt  that  Sir  Purcell  threw  too  much  on  her.  He  expected 
her  to  go  calmly  to  her  father,  and  to  Sir  Twickenham,  and 
tell  them  individually  that  her  heart  was  engaged;  then 
with  a  stately  figure  to  turn,  quit  the  house,  and  lay  her 
hand  in  his.  He  made  no  allowance  for  the  weakness  of 
her  sex,  for  the  difficulties  surrounding  her,  for  the  consid- 
eration due  to  Sir  Twickenham's  pride,  and  to  her  father's 
ill-health.  She  half-protested  to  herself  that  he  expected 
from  her  the  mechanical  correctness  of  a  machine,  and  over- 
looked the  fact  that  she  was  human.  It  was  a  grave  com- 
ment on  her  ambition  to  be  an  '  ideal.' 

So  let  us  leave  them,  till  we  come  upon  the  ashy  fruit  of 
which  this  blooming  sentimentalism  is  the  seed. 

It  was  past  midnight  when  Mrs.  Chump  rushed  to  Ara- 
bella's room,  and  her  knock  was  heard  vociferous  at  the 
door.  The  ladies,  who  were  at  work  upon  diaries  and  letters, 


DEFECTION  OF  MR.   PERICLES  879 

allowed  her  to  thump  and  wonder  whether  she  had  come  to 
the  wrong  door,  for  a  certain  period ;  after  which,  Arabella 
placidly  unbolted  her  chamber,  and  Adela  presented  herself 
in  the  passage  to  know  the  meaning  of  the  noise. 

"  Oh !  ye  poor  darlin's,  I've  heard  ut  all,  I  have." 

This  commencement  took  the  colour  from  their  cheeks. 
Arabella  invited  her  inside,  and  sent  Adela  for  Cornelia. 

"  Oh,  and  ye  poor  deers ! "  cried  Mrs.  Chump  to  Arabella, 
who  remarked :  "  Pray  wait  till  my  sisters  come ; "  causing 
the  woman  to  stare  and  observe :  "  If  ye're  not  as  cold  as 
the  bottom  of  a  pot  that  naver  felt  fire."  She  repeated  this 
to  Cornelia  and  Adela  as  an  accusation,  and  then  burst  on : 
"  My  heart's  just  breakin'  for  ye,  and  ye  shall  naver  want 
bread,  eh  !  and  roast  beef,  and  my  last  bottle  of  Port  ye'll 
share,  though  ye've  no  ideea  what  a  lot  o'  thoughts  o'  poor 
Chump's  under  that  cork,  and  it'll  be  a  waste  on  you.  Oh ! 
and  that  monster  of  a  Mr.  Paricles  that's  got  ye  in  his  power 
and's  goin'  to  be  the  rroon  of  ye  —  shame  to  'm !  Your 
father's  told  me;  and,  oh !  my  darlin'  garls,  don't  think  ut 
my  fault.  For,  Pole  —  Pole " 

Mrs.  Chump  was  choked  by  her  grief.  The  ladies,  un- 
bending to  some  curiosity,  eliminated  from  her  gasps  and 
sobs  that  Mr.  Pole  had,  in  the  solitude  of  his  library  below, 
accused  her  of  causing  the  defection  of  Mr.  Pericles,  and 
traced  his  possible  ruin  to  it,  confessing,  that  in  the  way  of 
business,  he  was  at  Mr.  Pericles'  mercy. 

"  And  in  such  a  passion  with  me ! "  Mrs.  Chump  wrung 
her  hands.  "  What  could  I  do  to  Mr.  Paricles  ?  He  isn': 
one  o'  the  men  that  I  can  kiss ;  and  Pole  shouldn't  wish  me 
And  Pole  settin'  down  his  rroon  to  me!  What'll  I  do? 
My  dears !  I  do  feel  for  ye,  for  I  feel  I'd  feel  myself  such  a 
beast,  without  money,  d'ye  see?  It's  the  most  horrible 
thing  in  the  world.  It's  like  no  candle  in  the  darrk.  And 
I,  ye  know,  I  know  I'd  naver  forgive  annybody  that  took 
my  money;  and  what'll  Pole  think  of  me?  For  oh!  ye 
may  call  riches  temptation,  but  poverty's  punishment ;  and 
I  heard  a  young  curate  say  that  from  the  pulpit,  and  he  was 
lean  enough  to  know,  poor  fella ! " 

Both  Cornelia  and  Arabella  breathed  more  freely  when 
they  had  heard  Mrs.  Chump's  tale  to  an  end.  They  knew 
perfectly  well  that  she  was  blameless  for  the  defection  of 


880  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

Mr.  Pericles,  and  understood  from  her  exclamatory  narra- 
tive that  their  father  had  reason  to  feel  some  grave  alarm 
at  the  Greek's  absence  from  their  house,  and  had  possibly 
reasons  of  his  own  for  accusing  Mrs.  Chump,  as  he  had 
done.  The  ladies  administered  consolation  to  her,  telling 
her  that  for  their  part  they  would  never  blame  her ;  even 
consenting  to  be  kissed  by  her,  hugged  by  her,  playfully 
patted,  complimented,  and  again  wept  over.  They  little 
knew  what  a  fervour  of  secret  devotion  they  created  in  Mrs. 
Chump's  bosom  by  this  astounding  magnanimity  displayed 
to  her,  who  laboured  under  the  charge  of  being  the  source 
of  their  ruin ;  nor  could  they  guess  that  the  little  hypocrisy 
they  were  practising  would  lead  to  any  singular  and  preg- 
nant resolution  in  the  mind  of  the  woman,  fraught  with 
explosion  to  their  house,  and  that  quick  movement  which 
they  awaited. 

Mrs.  Chump,  during  the  patient  strain  of  a  tender  hug  of 
Arabella,  had  mutely  resolved  in  a  great  heat  of  gratitude 
that  she  would  go  to  Mr.  Pericles,  and,  since  he  was  neces- 
sary to  the  well-being  of  Brookfield,  bring  him  back,  if  she 
had  to  bring  him  back  in  her  arms. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

IN   WHICH   WE  SEE  WILFKID   KINDLING 

Georgiana  Ford  to  Wilfrid 

"  I  HAVE  omitted  replying  to  your  first  letter,  not  because 
of  the  nature  of  its  contents :  nor  do  I  write  now  in  answer 
to  your  second  because  of  the  permission  you  give  me  to  lay 
it  before  my  brother.  I  cannot  think  that  concealment  is 
good,  save  for  very  base  persons ;  and  since  you  take  the 
initiative  in  writing  very  openly,  I  will  do  so  likewise. 

"  It  is  true  that  Emilia  is  with  me.  Her  voice  is  lost,  and 
she  has  fallen  as  low  in  spirit  as  one  can  fall  and  still  give 
us  hope  of  her  recovery.  But  that  hope  I  have,  and  I  am 
confident  that  you  will  not  destroy  it.  In  the  summer  she 


IN  WHICH  WE  SEE  WILFRID  KINDLING          881 

goes  with  us  to  Italy.  We  have  consulted  one  doctor,  who 
did  not  prescribe  medicine  for  her.  In  the  morning  she 
reads  with  my  brother.  She  seems  to  forget  whatever  she 
reads:  the  occupation  is  everything  necessary  just  now. 
Our  sharp  Monmouth  air  provokes  her  to  walk  briskly  when 
she  is  out,  and  the  exercise  has  once  or  twice  given  colour  to 
her  cheeks.  Yesterday  being  a  day  of  clear  frost,  we  drove 
to  a  point  from  which  we  could  mount  the  Buckstone,  and 
here,  my  brother  says,  the  view  appeared  to  give  her  some- 
thing of  her  lost  animation.  It  was  a  look  that  I  had  never 
seen,  and  it  soon  went :  but  in  the  evening  she  asked  me 
whether  I  prayed  before  sleeping,  and  when  she  retired  to 
her  bedroom,  I  remained  there  with  her  for  a  time. 

"  You  will  pardon  me  for  refusing  to  let  her  know  that  you 
have  written  to  your  relative  in  the  Austrian  service  to 
obtain  a  commission  for  you.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  I  have 
thought  it  right  to  tell  her  incidentally  that  you  will  be 
married  in  the  Summer  of  this  year.  I  can  only  say  that 
she  listened  quite  calmly. 

"I  beg  that  you  will  not  blame  yourself  so  vehemently. 
By  what  you  do,  her  friends  may  learn  to  know  that  you 
regret  the  strange  effect  produced  by  certain  careless  words, 
or  conduct:  but  I  cannot  find  that  self-accusation  is  ever 
good  at  all.  In  answer  to  your  question,  I  may  add  that  she 
has  repeated  nothing  of  what  she  said  when  we  were  together 
in  Devon. 

"  Our  chief  desire  (for,  as  we  love  her,  we  may  be  directed 
by  our  instinct),  in  the  attempt  to  restore  her,  is  to  make  her 
understand  that  she  is  anything  but  worthless.  She  has 
recently  followed  my  brother's  lead,  and  spoken  of  herself, 
but  with  a  touch  of  scorn.  This  morning,  while  the  clear 
frosty  sky  continues,  we  were  to  have  started  for  an  old 
castle  lying  toward  Wales ;  and  I  think  the  idea  of  a  castle 
must  have  struck  her  imagination,  and  forced  some  internal 
contrast  on  her  mind.  I  am  repeating  my  brother's  sugges- 
tion —  she  seemed  more  than  usually  impressed  with  an  idea 
that  she  was  of  no  value  to  anybody.  She  asked  why  she 
should  go  anywhere,  and  dropped  into  a  chair,  begging  to  be 
allowed  to  stay  in  a  darkened  room.  My  brother  has  some 
strange  intuition  of  her  state  of  mind.  She  has  lost  any 
power  she  may  have  had  of  grasping  abstract  ideas.  In  whm* 


382  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

I  conceived  to  be  play,  he  told  her  that  many  would  buy  her 
even  now.  She  appeared  to  be  speculating  on  this,  and  then 
wished  to  know  how  much  those  persons  would  consider  her 
to  be  worth,  and  who  they  were.  Nor  did  it  raise  a  smile  on 
her  face  to  hear  my  brother  mention  Jews,  and  name  an 
absolute  sum  of  money  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  after  evidently 
thinking  over  it,  she  rose  up,  and  said  that  she  was  ready  to 
go.  I  write  fully  to  you,  telling  you  these  things,  that  you 
may  see  she  is  at  any  rate  eager  not  to  despair,  and  is  learn- 
ing, much  as  a  child  might  learn  it,  that  it  need  not  be. 

"  Believe  me,  that  I  will  in  every  way  help  to  dispossess 
your  mind  of  the  remorse  now  weighing  upon  you,  as  far  as 
it  shall  be  within  my  power  to  do  so. 

"Mr.  Runningbrook  has  been  invited  by  my  brother  to 
come  and  be  her  companion.  They  have  a  strong  affection 
for  one  another.  He  is  a  true  poet,  full  of  reverence  for  a 
true  woman." 

Wilfrid  to  Georgiana  Ford 

"  I  cannot  thank  you  enough.  When  I  think  of  her  I  am 
unmanned;  and  if  I  let  my  thoughts  fall  back  upon  myself, 
I  am  such  as  you  saw  me  that  night  in  Devon  —  helpless,  and 
no  very  presentable  figure.  But  you  do  not  picture  her  to 
me.  I  cannot  imagine  whether  her  face  has  changed ;  and, 
pardon  me,  were  I  writing  to  you  alone,  I  could  have  faith 
that  the  delicate  insight  and  angelic  nature  of  a  woman  would 
not  condemn  my  desire  to  realize  before  my  eyes  the  state 
she  has  fallen  to.  I  see  her  now  under  a  black  shroud. 
Have  her  features  changed  ?  I  cannot  remember  one  —  only 
at  an  interval  her  eyes.  Does  she  look  into  the  faces  of 
people  as  she  used  ?  Or  does  she  stare  carelessly  away  ? 
Softly  between  the  eyes,  is  what  I  meant.  I  mean — but 
my  reason  for  this  particularity  is  very  simple.  I  would 
state  it  to  you,  and  to  no  other.  I  cannot  have  peace  till 
she  is  restored;  and  my  prayer  is,  that  I  may  not  haunt 
her  to  defeat  your  labour.  Does  her  face  appear  to  show 
that  I  am  quite  absent  from  her  thoughts  ?  Oh !  you  will 
understand  me.  You  have  seen  me  stand  and  betray  no 
suffering  when  a  shot  at  my  forehead  would  have  been 
mercy.  To  you  I  will  dare  to  open  my  heart.  I  wish  to 
be  certain  that  I  have  not  injured  her  —  that  is  all.  Per- 


IN   WHICH   WE  SEE   WILFRID  KINDLING          388 

haps  I  am  more  guilty  than  you  think :  more  even  than  I 
can  call  to  mmd.  If  I  may  judge  by  the  punishment,  my 
guilt  is  immeasurable.  Tell  me— if  you  will  but  tell  me 
that  the  sacrifice  of  my  life  to  her  will  restore  her,  it  is 
hers.  Write,  and  say  this,  and  I  will  come.  Do  not  delay 
or  spare  me.  Her  dumb  voice  is  like  a  ghost  in  my  ears. 
It  cries  to  me  that  I  have  killed  it.  Be  actuated  by  no 
charitable  considerations  in  refraining  to  write.  Could  a 
miniature  of  her  be  sent?  You  will  think  the  request 
strange ;  but  I  want  to  be  sure  she  is  not  haggard  —  not  the 
hospital  face  I  fancy  now,  which  accuses  me  of  murder. 
Does  she  preserve  the  glorious  freshness  she  used  to  wear  ? 
She  had  a  look  —  or  did  you  see  her  before  the  change  ?  I 
only  want  to  know  that  she  is  well." 

Tracy  Runningbrook  to  Wilfrid 

"  You  had  my  promise  that  I  would  write  and  give  your 
conscience  a  nightcap.  I  have  a  splendid  one  for  you.  Put 
it  on  without  any  hesitation.  I  find  her  quite  comfortable 
Powys  reads  Italian  with  her  in  the  morning.  His  sister 
(who  might  be  a  woman  if  she  liked,  but  has  an  insane 
preference  for  celestial  neutrality)  does  the  moral  inculca- 
tion. The  effect  is  comical.  I  should  like  you  to  see  Cold 
Steel  leading  Tame  Fire  about,  and  imagining  the  taming 
to  be  her  work !  You  deserve  well  of  your  generation. 
You  just  did  enough  to  set  this  darling  girl  alight.  Knights 
and  squires  numberless  will  thank  you.  The  idea  of  your 
reproaching  yourself  is  monstrous.  Why,  there's  no  one 
thanks  you  more  than  she  does.  You  stole  her  voice, 
which  some  may  think  a  pity,  but  I  don't,  seeing  that  I 
would  rather  have  her  in  a  salon  than  before  the  footlights. 
Imagine  my  glory  in  her !  —  she  has  become  half  cat  I  She 
moves  softly,  as  if  she  loved  everything  she  touched; 
making  you  throb  to  feel  the  little  ball  of  her  foot  Her 
eyes  look  steadily,  like  green  jewels  before  the  veil  of  an 
Egyptian  temple.  Positively,  her  eyes  have  grown  green 
—  or  greenish!  They  were  darkish  hazel  formerly,  and 
talked  more  of  milkmaids  and  chattering  pastorals  than  a 
discerning  master  would  have  wished.  Take  credit  for  th* 
change ;  and  at  least  /  don't  blame  you  for  the  tender  hoi. 


384  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

lows  under  the  eyes,  sloping  outward,  just  hinted  .  .  . 
Love's  mark  on  her,  so  that  men's  hearts  may  faint  to  know 
that  love  is  known  to  her,  and  burn  to  read  her  history. 
When  she  is  about  to  speak,  the  upper  lids  droop  a  very 
little ;  or  else  the  under  lids  quiver  upward  —  I  know  not 
which.  Take  further  credit  for  her  manner.  She  has  now 
a  manner  of  her  own.  Some  of  her  naturalness  has  gone, 
but  she  has  skipped  clean  over  the  'young  lady'  stage; 
from  raw  girl  she  has  really  got  as  much  of  the  great  man- 
ner as  a  woman  can  have  who  is  not  an  ostensibly  retired 
dowager,  or  a  matron  on  a  pedestal  shuffling  the  naked  virt- 
ues aud  the  decorous  vices  together.  She  looks  at  you  with 
an  immense,  marvellous  gravity,  before  she  replies  to  you  — 
enveloping  you  in  a  velvet  light.  This  is  fact,  not  fine 
stuff,  my  dear  fellow.  The  light  of  her  eyes  does  abso- 
lutely cling  about  you.  Adieu !  You  are  a  great  master, 
and  know  exactly  when  to  make  your  bow  and  retire.  A 
little  more,  and  you  would  have  spoilt  her.  Now  she  is 
perfect." 

Wilfrid  to  Tracy  Runningbrook 

"  I  have  just  come  across  a  review  of  your  last  book,  and 
send  it,  thinking  you  may  wish  to  see  it.  I  have  put  a  query 
to  one  of  the  passages,  which  I  think  misquoted :  and  there 
will  be  no  necessity  to  call  your  attention  to  the  critic's 
English.  You  can  afford  to  laugh  at  it,  but  I  confess  it 
puts  your  friends  in  a  rage.  Here  are  a  set  of  fellows  who 
arm  themselves  with  whips  and  stand  in  the  public  thor- 
oughfare to  make  any  man  of  real  genius  run  the  gauntlet 
down  their  ranks  till  he  comes  out  flayed  at  the  other  ex- 
tremity !  What  constitutes  their  right  to  be  there  ?  —  By  the 
way,  I  met  Sir  Purcell  Barrett  (the  fellow  who  was  at  Hill- 
ford),  and  he  would  like  to  write  an  article  on  you  that  should 
act  as  a  sort  of  rejoinder.  You  won't  mind,  of  course  —  it's 
bread  to  him,  poor  devil !  I  doubt  whether  I  shall  see  you 
when  you  come  back,  so  write  a  jolly  lot  of  letters.  Colonel 
Pierson,  of  the  Austrian  army,  my  uncle  (did  you  meet  him 
at  Brookfield  ?),  advises  me  to  sell  out  immediately.  He  is 
getting  me  an  Imperial  commission — cavalry.  I  shall  give  up 
the  English  service.  And  if  they  want  my  medal,  they  can 
have  it,  and  I'll  begin  again.  I'm  sick  of  everything  except 


IN   WHICH   WE  SEE  WILFBID  KINDLING          386 

a  cigar  and  a  good  volume  of  poems.    Here's  to  light  one, 
and  now  for  the  other ! 

'"Large  eyes  lit  up  by  some  imperial  sin,'  "  etc. 

(Ten  lines  from  Tracy's  book  are  here  copied  neatly.) 

Tracy  Runningbrook  to  Wilfrid 

"  Why  the  deuce  do  you  write  me  such  infernal  trash  about 
the  opinions  of  a  villanous  dog  who  can't  even  pen  a  decent 
sentence  ?  I've  been  damning  you  for  a  white-livered  Aus- 
trian up  and  down  the  house.  Let  the  fellow  bark  till  he 
froths  at  the  mouth,  and  scatters  the  virus  of  the  beast  among 
his  filthy  friends.  I  am  mad-dog  proof.  The  lines  you  quote 
were  written  in  an  awful  hurry,  coming  up  in  the  train  from 
Richford  one  morning.  You  have  hit  upon  my  worst  with 
commendable  sagacity.  If  it  will  put  money  in  Barrett's 
pocket,  let  him  write.  I  should  prefer  to  have  nothing  said. 
The  chances  are  all  in  favour  of  his  writing  like  a  fool.  If 
you're  going  to  be  an  Austrian,  we  may  have  a  chance  of 
shooting  one  another  some  day,  so  here's  my  hand  before 
you  go  and  sell  your  soul ;  and  anything  I  can  do  in  the 
meantime  —  command  me." 

Georgiana  Ford  to  Wilfrid 

"  I  do  not  dare  to  charge  you  with  a  breach  of  your  pledged 
word.  Let  me  tell  you  simply  that  Emilia  has  become  aware 
of  your  project  to  enter  the  Austrian  service,  and  it  has  had 
the  effect  on  her  which  I  foresaw.  She  could  bear  to  hear 
of  your  marriage,  but  this  is  too  much  for  her,  and  it  breaks 
my  heart  to  see  her.  It  is  too  cruel.  She  does  not  betray  any 
emotion,  but  I  can  see  that  every  principle  she  had  gained  is 
gone,  and  that  her  bosom  holds  the  shadows  of  a  real  despair. 
I  foresaw  it,  and  sought  to  guard  her  against  it.  That  you, 
whom  she  had  once  called  (to  me)  her  lover,  should  enlist 
himself  as  an  enemy  of  her  country !  —  it  comes  to  her  as  a 
fact  striking  her  brain  dumb  while  she  questions  it,  and  the 
poor  body  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  ache.  Surely  you  could 
have  no  object  in  doing  this  ?  I  will  not  suspect  it 
Kunningbrook  is  acquainted  with  your  plans,  I  believe ;  but 
he  has  no  remembrance  of  having  mentioned  this  one  to 
Emilia.  He  distinctly  assures  me  that  he  has  not  done  so, 


386  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

and  I  trust  him  to  speak  truth.  How  can  it  have  happened  ? 
But  here  is  the  evil  done.  I  see  no  remedy.  I  am  not  skilled 
in  sketching  the  portraits  you  desire  of  her,  and  yet,  if  you 
have  ever  wished  her  to  know  this  miserable  thing,  it  would 
be  as  well  that  you  should  see  the  different  face  that  has  come 
among  us  within  twenty  hours." 

Wilfrid  to  Georgiana  Ford 

"  I  will  confine  my  reply  to  a  simple  denial  of  having  caused 
this  fatal  intelligence  to  reach  her  ears ;  for  the  truth  of  which, 
I  pledge  my  honour  as  a  gentleman.  A  second's  thought 
would  have  told  me  —  indeed  I  at  once  acquiesced  in  your 
view  —  that  she  should  not  know  it.  How  it  has  happened 
it  is  vain  to  attempt  to  guess.  Can  you  suppose  that  I  de- 
sired her  to  hate  me  ?  Yet  this  is  what  the  knowledge  of 
the  step  I  am  taking  will  make  her  do !  If  I  could  see  —  if 
I  might  see  her  for  five  minutes,  I  should  be  able  to  explain 
everything,  and,  I  sincerely  think  (painful  as  it  would  be  to 
me),  give  her  something  like  peace.  It  is  too  late  even  to 

wish  to  justify  myself ;  but  her  I  can  persuade  that  she 

Do  you  not  see  that  her  mind  is  still  unconvinced  of  my  —  I 
will  call  it  baseness  !  Is  this  the  self -accusing  you  despise  ? 
A  little  of  it  must  be  heard.  If  I  may  see  her  I  will  not 
fail  to  make  her  understand  my  position.  She  shall  see  that 
it  is  I  who  am  worthless  —  not  she !  You  know  the  circum- 
stances under  which  I  last  beheld  her  —  when  I  saw  pang 
upon  pang  smiting  her  breast  from  my  silence !  But  now  I 
may  speak.  Do  not  be  prepossessed  against  my  proposal !  It 
shall  be  only  for  five  minutes  —  no  more.  Not  that  it  is  my 
desire  to  come.  In  truth,  it  could  not  be.  I  have  felt  that 
I  alone  can  cure  her  —  I  who  did  the  harm.  Mark  me :  she 

will  fret  secretly ,  but  dear  and  kindest  lady,  do  not 

smile  too  critically  at  the  tone  I  adopt.  I  cannot  tell  how 
I  am  writing  or  what  saying.  Believe  me  that  I  am  deeply 
and  constantly  sensible  of  your  generosity.  In  case  you 
hesitate,  I  beg  you  to  consult  Mr.  Powys." 

Georgiana  Ford  to  Wilfrid 

"  I  had  no  occasion  to  consult  my  broLjer  to  be  certain  that 
an  interview  between  yourself  and  Emilia  should  not  take 


IN   WHICH   WE  SEE   WILFRID   KINDLING          387 

place.  There  can  be  no  object,  even  if  the  five  minutes  of  the 
meeting  gave  her  happiness,  why  the  wound  of  the  long  part- 
ing should  be  again  opened.  She  is  wretched  enough  now, 
though  her  tenderness  for  us  conceals  it  as  far  as  possible. 
When  some  heavenly  light  shall  have  penetrated  her,  she 
will  have  a  chance  of  peace.  The  evil  is  not  of  a  nature  to 
be  driven  out  by  your  hands.  If  you  are  not  going  into  the 
Austrian  service,  she  shall  know  as  much  immediately. 
Otherwise,  be  as  dead  to  her  as  you  may,  and  your  noblest 
feelings  cannot  be  shown  under  any  form  but  that" 

Wilfrid  to  Tracy  Runningbrook 

"  Some  fellows  whom  I  know  want  you  to  write  a  prologue 
to  a  play  they  are  going  to  get  up.  It's  about  Shakespeare 
—  at  least,  the  proceeds  go  to  something  of  that  sort.  Do, 
(ike  a  good  fellow,  toss  us  off  twenty  lines.  Why  don't  you 
write  ?  By  the  way,  I  hope  there's  no  truth  in  a  report  that 
has  somehow  reached  me,  that  they  have  the  news  down  in 
Monmouth  of  my  deserting  to  the  black-yellow  squadrons  ? 
Of  course,  such  a  thing  as  that  should  have  been  kept  from 
them.  I  hear,  too,  that  your  —  I  suppose  I  must  call  her 
now  your — pupil  is  falling  into  bad  health.  Think  me  as 
cold  and  *  British '  as  you  like ;  but  the  thought  of  this  does 
really  affect  me  painfully.  Upon  my  honour,  it  does !  '  And 
now  he  yawns ! '  you're  saying.  You're  wrong.  We  Army 
men  feel  just  as  you  poets  do,  and  for  a  longer  time,  I  think, 
though  perhaps  not  so  acutely.  I  send  you  the  'Venus' 
cameo  which  you  admired.  Pray  accept  it  from  an  old 
friend.  I  mayn't  see  you  again." 

Tracy  Runningbrook  to   Wilfrid 
(enclosing  lines) 

"  Here  they  are.  It  will  require  a  man  who  knows  some- 
thing about  metre  to  speak  them.  Had  Shakespeare's 
grandmother  three  Christian  names  ?  and  did  she  anticipate 
feminine  posterity  in  her  rank  of  life  by  saying  habitually, 
'  Drat  it  ? '  There  is  as  yet  no  Society  to  pursue  this  inves- 
tigation, but  it  should  be  started.  Enormous  thanks  for  the 
Venus.  I  wore  it  this  morning  at  breakfast.  Just  as  Wt 


388  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

were  rising,  I  leaned  forward  to  her,  and  she  jumped  up  with 
her  eyes  under  my  chin.  '  Isn't  she  a  beauty  ?  '  I  said.  '  It 
was  his/  she  answered,  changing  eyes  of  eagle  for  eyes  of 
dove,  and  then  put  out  the  lights.  I  had  half  a  mind  to 
offer  it,  on  the  spot.  May  I  ?  That  is  to  say,  if  the  im- 
pulse seizes  me  I  take  nobody's  advice,  and  fair  Venus  cer- 
tainly is  not  under  my  chin  at  this  moment.  As  to  ill 
health,  great  mother  Nature  has  given  a  house  of  iron  to 
this  soul  of  fire.  The  windows  may  blaze,  or  the  windows 
may  be  extinguished,  but  the  house  stands  firm.  When  you 
are  lightning  or  earthquake,  you  may  have  something  to  re- 
proach yourself  for ;  as  it  is,  be  under  no  alarm.  Do  not 
put  words  in  my  mouth  that  I  have  not  uttered.  '  And  now 
he  yawns,'  is  what  I  shall  say  of  you  only  when  I  am  sure 
you  have  just  heard  a  good  thing.  You  really  are  the  best 
fellow  of  your  set  that  I  have  come  across,  and  the  only  one 
pretending  to  brains.  Your  modesty  in  estimating  your 
value  as  a  leader  of  Pandours  will  be  pleasing  to  them  who 
like  that  modesty.  Good-bye.  This  little  Emilia  is  a  mar- 
vel of  flying  moods.  Yesterday  she  went  about  as  if  she 
said,  'I've  promised  Apollo  not  to  speak  till  to-morrow.' 
To-day,  she's  in  a  feverish  gabble  —  or  began  the  day  with 
a  burst  of  it ;  and  now  she's  soft  and  sensible.  If  you  fancy 
a  girl  at  her  age  being  able  to  see,  that  it's  a  woman's  duty 
to  herself  and  the  world  to  be  artistic  —  to  perfect  the  thing 
of  beauty  she  is  meant  to  be  by  nature  !  —  and,  seeing,  too, 
that  Love  is  an  instrument  like  any  other  thing,  and  that 
we  must  play  on  it  with  considerate  gentleness,  and  that 
tearing  at  it  or  dashing  it  to  earth,  making  it  howl  and 
quiver,  is  madness,  and  not  love !  —  I  assure  you  she  begins 
to  see  it !  She  does  see  it.  She  is  going  to  wear  a  wreath 
of  black  briony  (preserved  and  set  by  Miss  Ford,  a  person 
cunning  in  these  matters).  She's  going  to  the  ball  at  Pen- 
arvon  Castle,  and  will  look  —  supply  your  favourite  slang 
word.  A  little  more  experience,  and  she  will  have  malice. 
She  wants  nothing  but  that  to  make  her  consummate.  Malice 
is  the  barb  of  beauty.  She's  just  at  present  a  trifle  blunt. 
She  will  knock  over,  but  not  transfix.  I  am  anxious  to 
watch  the  effect  she  produces  at  Penarvon.  Poor  little 
'woman !  I  paid  a  compliment  to  her  eyes.  '  I've  got  noth- 
ing else,'  said  she.  Dine  as  well  as  you  can  while  you  are 


ON  THE  HLPPOGRIFF  IN  AIB  889 

in  England.  German  cookery  is  an  education  for  the  senti- 
ment  of  hogs.  The  play  of  sour  and  sweet,  and  crowning 
of  the  whole  with  fat,  shows  a  people  determined  to  go  down 
in  civilization,  and  try  the  business  backwards.  Adieu, 
curst  Croat !  On  the  Wallachian  border  mayst  thou  gather 
philosophy  from  meditation." 


CHAPTER  XLFV 

ON   THE   HIPPOGRIFF   IN  AIB:    IN   WHICH    THE    PHIL08OPHKB 
HAS   A   SHORT   SPELL 

DEXTEROUSLY  as  Wilfrid  has  turned  Tracy  to  his  uses  by 
means  of  the  foregoing  correspondence,  in  doing  so  he  had 
exposed  himself  to  the  retributive  poison  administered  by 
that  cunning  youth.  And  now  the  Hippogriff  seized  him, 
and  mounted  with  him  into  mid-air ;  not  as  when  the  idle 
boy  Ganymede  was  caught  up  to  act  as  cup-bearer  in  celes- 
tial Courts,  but  to  plunge  about  on  yielding  vapours,  with 
nothing  near  him  save  the  voice  of  his  desire. 

The  Philosopher  here  peremptorily  demands  the  pulpit. 
We  are  subject,  he  says,  to  fantastic  moods,  and  shall  dry 
ready-minted  phrases  picture  them  forth  ?  As,  for  example, 
can  the  words  '  delirium,'  or  '  frenzy,'  convey  an  image  of 
Wilfrid's  state,  when  his  heart  began  to  covet  Emilia  again, 
and  his  sentiment  not  only  interposed  no  obstacle,  but 
trumpeted  her  charms  and  fawned  for  her,  and  he  thought 
her  lost,  remembered  that  she  had  been  his  own,  and  was 
ready  to  do  any  madness  to  obtain  her  ?  '  Madness '  is  the 
word  that  hits  the  mark,  but  it  does  not  fully  embrace  the 
meaning.  To  be  in  this  state,  says  the  Philosopher,  is  to 
be  ON  THE  HIPPOGRIFF;  and  to  this,  as  he  explains,  the 
persons  who  travel  to  Love  by  the  road  of  sentiment  will 
come,  if  they  have  any  stuff  in  them,  and  if  the  one  who 
kindles  them  is  mighty.  He  distinguishes  being  on  the 
Hippogriff  from  being  possessed  by  passion.  Passion,  he 
says,  is  noble  strength  on  Jire,  and  points  to  Emilia  as  a  rep- 
resentation of  passion.  She  asks  for  what  she  thinks  she 


390  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

may  have;  she  claims  what  she  imagines  to  be  her  own. 
She  has  no  shame,  and  thus,  believing  in,  she  never  violates, 
nature,  and  offends  no  law,  wild  as  she  may  seem.  Passion 
does  not  turn  on  her  and  rend  her  when  it  is  thwarted.  She 
was  never  carried  out  of  the  limit  of  her  own  intelligent 
force,  seeing  that  it  directed  her  always,  with  the  simple 
mandate  to  seek  that  which  belonged  to  her.  She  was  per- 
fectly sane,  and  constantly  just  to  herself,  until  the  failure 
of  her  voice,  telling  her  that  she  was  a  beggar  in  the  world, 
came  as  r  second  blow,  and  partly  scared  her  reason.  Con- 
stantly just  to  herself,  mind !  This  is  the  quality  of  true 
passion.  Those  who  make  a  noise,  and  are  not  thus  dis- 
tinguishable, are  on  Hippogriff. 

—  By  which  it  is  clear  to  me  that  my  fantastic  Philoso- 
pher means  to  indicate  the  lover  mounted  in  this  wise,  as  a 
creature  bestriding  an  extraneous  power.  "The  sentimen- 
talist," he  says,  "  goes  on  accumulating  images  and  hiving 
sensations,  till  such  time  as  (if  the  stuff  be  in  him)  they  as- 
sume a  form  of  vitality,  and  hurry  him  headlong.  This  is 
not  passion,  though  it  amazes  men,  and  does  the  madder 
thing." 

In  fine,  it  is  Hippogriff.  And  right  loath  am  I  to  con- 
tinue my  partnership  with  a  fellow  who  will  not  see  things 
on  the  surface,  and  is,  as  a  necessary  consequence,  blind  to 
the  fact  that  the  public  detest  him.  I  mean,  this  garrulous, 
super-subtle,  so-called  Philosopher,  who  first  set  me  upon 
the  building  of  THE  THREE  VOLUMES,  it  is  true,  but  whose 
stipulation  that  he  should  occupy  so  large  a  portion  of  them 
has  made  them  rock  top-heavy,  to  the  forfeit  of  their  stabil- 
ity. He  maintains  that  a  story  should  not  always  flow,  or, 
at  least,  not  to  a  given  measure.  When  we  are  knapsack 
on  back,  he  says,  we  come  to  eminences  where  a  survey  of 
our  journey  past  and  in  advance  is  desireable,  as  is  a  dis- 
tinct pause  in  any  business,  here  and  there.  He  points 
proudly  to  the  fact  that  our  people  in  this  comedy  move 
themselves, — are  moved  from  their  own  impulsion,  —  and 
that  no  arbitrary  hand  has  posted  them  to  bring  about  any 
event  and  heap  the  catastrophe.  In  vain  I  tell  him  that  he 
is  meantime  making  tatters  of  the  puppets'  golden  robe  — 
illusion :  that  he  is  sucking  the  blood  of  their  warm  human- 
ity out  of  them.  He  promises  that  when  Emilia  is  in  Italy 


ON  THE   HIPPOGRIFF   IN  AIB  391 

he  will  retire  altogether ;  for  there  is  a  field  of  action,  of 
battles  and  conspiracies,  nerve  and  muscle,  where  life  fights 
for  plain  issues,  and  he  can  but  sum  results.  Let  us,  he  en- 
treats, be  true  to  time  and  place.  In  our  fat  England,  the 
gardener  Time  is  playing  all  sorts  of  delicate  freaks  in  the 
hues  and  traceries  of  the  flower  of  life,  and  shall  we  not 
note  them  ?  If  we  are  to  understand  our  species,  and  mark 
the  progress  of  civilization  at  all,  we  must.  Thus  the  Phi- 
losopher. Our  partner  is  our  master,  and  I  submit,  hopefully 
looking  for  release  with  my  Emilia,  in  the  day  when  Italy 
reddens  the  sky  with  the  banners  of  a  land  revived. 

I  hear  Wilfrid  singing  out  that  he  is  aloft,  burning  to  rush 
ahead,  while  his  beast  capers  in  one  spot,  abominably  ludi- 
crous. This  trick  of  Hippogriff  is  peculiar,  viz.,  that  when  he 
loses  all  faith  in  himself,  he  sinks  —  in  other  words,  goes  to 
excesses  of  absurd  humility  to  regain  it.  Passion  has  like- 
wise its  panting  intervals,  but  does  nothing  so  preposterous. 
The  wreath  of  black  briony,  spoken  of  by  Tracy  as  the 
crown  of  Emilia's  forehead,  had  begun  to  glow  with  a  fur- 
nace-colour in  Wilfrid's  fancy.  It  worked  a  Satanic  dis- 
traction in  him.  The  girl  sat  before  him  swathed  in  a 
darkness,  with  the  edges  of  the  briony  leaves  shining 
deadly -radiant  above  —  young  Hecate!  The  next  instant 
he  was  bleeding  with  pity  for  her,  aching  with  remorse,  and 
again  stung  to  intense  jealousy  of  all  who  might  behold  her 
(amid  a  reserve  of  angry  sensations  at  her  present  happi- 
ness). 

Why  had  she  not  made  allowance  for  his  miserable  situa- 
tion that  night  in  Devon?  Why  did  she  not  comprehend 
his  difficulties  in  relation  to  his  father's  affairs?  Why  did 
she  not  know  that  he  could  not  fail  to  love  her  for  ever? 

Interrogations  such  as  these  were  so  many  switches  of 
the  whip  in  the  flanks  of  Hippogriff. 

Another  peculiarity  of  the  animal  gifted  with  wings 
that  around  the  height  he  soars  to  he  can  see  no  barriers 
nor  any  of  the  fences  raised  by  men.     And  here  again  h 
differs  from  Passion,  which  may  tug  against  common  sense 
but  is  never,  in  a  great  nature,  divorced  from  it.     In  air  on 
Hippogriff,   desires  wax  boundless,  obstacles  are  hidden. 
It  seemed  nothing  to  Wilfrid  (after  several  tremendoi 
descents  of  humility)  that  he  should  hurry  for  Monmouth 


392  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

away,  to  gaze  on  Emilia  under  her  fair,  infernal,  bewitch- 
ing wreath;  nothing  that  he  should  put  an  arm  round  her; 
nothing  that  he  should  forthwith  carry  her  off,  though  he 
died  for  it.  Forming  no  design  beyond  that  of  setting  his 
eyes  on  her,  he  turned  the  head  of  Hippogriff  due  Westward. 


CHAPTER  XLV 

ON   THE   HIPPOGRIFF    ON   EARTH 

PENARVON  CASTLE  lay  over  the  borders  of  Monmouth- 
shire. Thither,  on  a  night  of  frosty  moonlight,  troops  of 
carriages  were  hurrying  with  the  usual  freightage  for  a 
country  ball :  —  the  squire  who  will  not  make  himself  happy 
by  seeing  that  his  duty  to  the  softer  side  of  his  family  must 
be  performed  during  the  comfortable  hours  when  bachelors 
snooze  in  arm-chairs,  and  his  nobler  dame  who,  not  caring 
for  Port  or  tobacco,  cheerfully  accepts  the  order  of  things 
as  bequeathed  to  her :  the  everlastingly  half -satisfied  young 
man,  who  looks  forward  to  the  hour  when  his  cigar-light 
will  shine ;  and  the  damsel  thrice  demure  as  a  cover  for  her 
eagerness.  Within  a  certain  distance  of  one  of  the  car- 
riages, a  man  rode  on  horseback.  The  court  of  the  castle 
was  reached,  and  he  turned  aside,  lingering  to  see  whether 
he  could  get  a  view  of  the  lighted  steps.  To  effect  his 
object,  he  dismounted  and  led  his  horse  through  the  gates, 
turning  from  gravel  to  sward,  to  keep  in  the  dusk.  A  very 
agile  middle-aged  gentleman  was  the  first  to  appear  under 
the  portico-lamps,  and  he  gave  his  hand  to  a  girl  of  fifteen, 
and  then  to  a  most  portly  lady  in  a  scarlet  mantle.  The 
carriage-door  slammed  and  drove  off,  while  a  groan  issued 
from  the  silent  spectator.  "  Good  heavens !  have  I  followed 
these  horrible  people  for  five-and-twenty  miles !  "  Carriage 
after  carriage  rattled  up  to  the  steps,  was  disburdened  of 
still  more  'horrible  people'  to  him,  and  went  the  way  of 
the  others.  "I  shan't  see  her,  after  all,"  he  cried  hoarsely, 
and  mounting,  said  to  the  beast  that  bore  him,  "Now  go 
sharp." 


ON  THE  HIPPOGBIFF  OX  EABTH  393 

Whether  you  recognize  the  rider  of  Hippogriff  or  not. 
this  is  he;  and  the  poor  livery-stable  screw  stretched  madly 

1  wind  failed,  when  he  was  allowed  to  choose  his  pace. 
Wilfrid  had  come  from  London  to  have  sight  of  Emihaiii 
the  black-briony  wreath:  to  see  her,  himself  unseen,  and 
go.  But  he  had  not  seen  her;  so  he  had  the  full  excuse  to- 
continue  the  adventure.  He  rode  into  a  Welsh  town,  and 
engaged  a  fresh  horse  for  the  night. 

"  She  won't  sing,  at  all  events,"  thought  Wilfrid,  to  com- 
fort himself,  before  the  memory  that  she  could  not,  in  any 
case,  touched  springs  of  weakness  and  pitying  tenderness. 
From  an  eminence  to  which  he  walked  outside  the  town, 
Penarvon  was  plainly  visible  with  all  its  lighted  windows. 

"But  I  will  pluck  her  from  you!"  he  muttered,  in  a 
spasm  of  jealousy;  the  image  of  himself  as  an  outcast 
against  the  world  that  held  her,  striking  him  with  great 
force  at  that  moment. 

"I  must  give  up  the  Austrian  commission,  if  she  takes 
me." 

And  be  what?  For  he  had  sold  out  of  the  English  ser- 
vice, and  was  to  receive  the  money  in  a  couple  of  days. 
How  long  would  the  money  support  him?  It  would  not 
pay  half  his  debts !  What,  then,  did  this  pursuit  of  Emilia 
mean?  To  blink  this  question,  he  had  to  give  the  spur  to 
Hippogriff.  It  meant  (upon  Hippogriff  at  a  brisk  gallop), 
that  he  intended  to  live  for  her,  die  for  her,  if  need  be,  and 
carve  out  of  the  world  all  that  she  would  require.  Every- 
thing appears  possible,  on  Hippogriff,  when  he  is  going; 
but  it  is  a  bad  business  to  put  the  spur  on  so  willing  a  beast. 
When  he  does  not  go  of  his  own  will ;  —  when  he  sees  that 
there  are  obstructions,  it  is  best  to  jump  off  his  back.  And 
we  should  abandon  him  then,  save  that  having  once  tasted 
what  he  can  do  for  us,  we  become  enamoured  of  the  habit 
of  going  keenly,  and  defying  obstacles.  Thus  do  we  begin 
to  corrupt  the  uses  of  the  gallant  beast  (for  he  is  a  gallant 
beast,  though  not  of  the  first  order) ;  we  spoil  his  instincts 
ind  train  him  to  hurry  us  to  perdition. 

"If  my  sisters  could  see  me  now!"  thought  Wilfrid, 
naif -smitten  with  a  distant  notion  of  a  singularity  in  his 
position  there,  the  mark  for  a  frosty  breeze,  while  his  eyes 
kept  uudeviating  watch  over  Penarvon. 


394  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

After  a  time  he  went  back  to  the  inn,  and  got  among 
coachmen  and  footmen,  all  battling  lustily  against  the  frost 
with  weapons  scientifically  selected  at  the  bar.  They 
thronged  the  passages,  and  lunged  hearty  punches  at  one 
another,  drank  and  talked,  and  only  noticed  that  a  gentle- 
man was  in  their  midst  when  he  moved  to  get  a  light.  One 
complained  that  he  had  to  drive  into  Monmouth  that  night, 
by  a  road  that  sent  him  five  miles  out  of  his  way,  owing  to 
a  block  —  a  great  stone  that  had  fallen  from  the  hill.  "  You 
can't  ask  'em  to  get  out  and  walk-  ten  steps,"  he  said;  "or 
there!  I'd  lead  the  horses  and  just  tip  up  the  off  wheels, 
and  round  the  place  in  a  twinkle,  pop  'm  in  again,  and 
nobody  hurt;  but  you  can't  ask  ladies  to  risk  catchin'  colds 
for  the  sake  of  the  poor  horses." 

Several  coachmen  spoke  upon  this,  and  the  shame  and 
marvel  it  was  that  the  stone  had  not  been  moved;  and 
between  them  the  name  of  Mr.  Powys  was  mentioned,  with 
the  remark  that  he  would  spare  his  beasts  if  he  could. 

"What's  that  block  you're  speaking  of,  just  out  of  Mon- 
mouth?" enquired  Wilfrid;  and  it  being  described  to  him, 
together  with  the  exact  bearings  of  the  road  and  situation 
of  the  mass  of  stone,  he  at  once  repeated  a  part  of  what  he 
had  heard  in  the  form  of  the  emphatic  interrogation, 
"  What !  there?  "  and  flatly  told  the  coachman  that  the  stone 
had  been  moved. 

"  It  wasn't  moved  this  morning,  then,  sir,"  said  the  latter. 

"No;  but  a  great  deal  can  be  done  in  a  couple  of  hours," 
said  Wilfrid. 

"Did  you  see  'em  at  work,  sir?" 

"  No ;  but  I  came  that  way,  and  the  road  was  clear. " 

"  The  deuce  it  was !  "  ejaculated  the  coachman,  willingly 
convinced. 

"And  that's  the  way  I  shall  return,"  added  Wilfrid. 

He  tossed  some  money  on  the  bar  to  aid  in  warming  the 
assemblage,  and  received  numerous  salutes  as  he  passed  out. 

His  heart  was  beating  fast.  "  I  shall  see  her,  in  the  teeth 
of  my  curst  luck,"  he  thought,  picturing  to  himself  the 
blessed  spot  where  the  mass  of  stone  would  lie ;  and  to  that 
point  he  galloped,  concentrating  all  the  light  in  his  mind 
on  this  maddest  of  chances,  till  it  looked  sound,  and  finally 
certain. 


RAPE  OP  THE  BLACK-BRIONY   WREATH  3!'., 

"It's  certain,  if  that's  not  a  hired  coachman,"  he  calcu- 
lated. "  If  he  is,  he  won't  risk  his  fee.  If  he  isn't,  he'll 
feel  on  the  safe  side  anyhow.  At  any  rate,  it's  my  only 
chance."  And  away  he  flew  between  glimmering  slopes  of 
frost  to  where  a  white  curtain  of  mist  hung  across  the 
wooded  hills  of  the  Wye. 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

RAPE   OF    THE    BLACK-BRIONY    WREATH 

EMILIA  was  in  skilful  hands,  and  against  anything  less 
powerful  than  a  lover  mounted  upon  Hippogriff,  might 
have  been  shielded.  What  is  poison  to  most  girls,  Merthyr 
prescribed  for  her  as  medicine.  He  nourished  her  fainting 
spirit  upon  vanity.  In  silent  astonishment  Georgiana 
heard  him  address  speeches  to  her  such  as  dowagers  who 
have  seen  their  day  can  alone  of  womankind  complacently 
swallow.  He  encouraged  Tracy  Runningbrook  to  praise 
the  face  of  which  she  had  hitherto  thought  shyly.  Jewels 
were  placed  at  her  disposal,  and  dresses  laid  out  cunningly 
suited  to  her  complexion.  She  had  a  maid  to  wait  on  her, 
who  gabbled  at  the  momentous  hours  of  robing  and  unrob- 
ing: "Oh,  miss!  of  all  the  dark  young  ladies  I  ever  see!" 
—  Emilia  was  the  most  bewitching.  By-and-by,  Emilia 
was  led  to  think  of  herself;  but  with  a  struggle  and  under 
protest.  How  could  it  be  possible  that  she  was  so  very  nice 
to  the  eye,  and  Wilfrid  had  abandoned  her?  The  healthy 
spin  of  young  new  blood  turned  the  wheels  of  her  brain, 
and  then  she  thought:  "Perhaps  I  am  really  growing  hand- 
some ?  "  The  maid  said  artfully  of  her  hair :  "  If  gentlemen 
could  only  see  it  down,  miss !  It's  the  longest,  and  thick- 
est, and  blackest,  I  ever  touched!"  And  so  saying,  slid 
her  fingers  softly  through  it  after  the  comb,  and  thrilled 
the  owner  of  that  hair  till  soft  thoughts  made  her  bosom 
heave,  and  then  self-love  began  to  be  sensibly  awakened, 
followed  by  self-pity,  and  some  further  form  of  what  we 
understand  as  consciousness.  If  partially  a  degradation 


396  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

of  her  nature,  this  saved  her  mind  from  true  despair  when 
it  began  to  stir  after  the  vital  shock  that  had  brought  her 
to  earth.  "To  what  purpose  should  I  be  fair?"  was  a 
question  that  did  not  yet  come  to  her ;  but  it  was  sweet  to 
see  Merthyr's  eyes  gather  pleasure  from  the  light  of  her 
own.  Sweet,  though  nothing  more  than  coldly  sweet.  She 
compared  herself  to  her  father's  old  broken  violin,  that 
might  be  mended  to  please  the  sight;  but  would  never  give 
the  tones  again.  Sometimes,  if  hope  tormented  her,  she 
would  strangle  it  by  trying  her  voice :  and  such  a  little 
piece  of  self-inflicted  anguish  speedily  undid  all  Merthyr's 
work.  He  was  patient  as  one  who  tends  a  flower  in  the 
Spring.  Georgiana  marvelled  that  the  most  sensitive  and 
proud  of  men  should  be  striving  to  uproot  an  image  from 
the  heart  of  a  simple  girl,  that  he  might  place  his  own 
there.  His  methods  almost  led  her  to  think  that  his  esti- 
mate of  human  nature  was  falling  low.  Nevertheless,  she 
was  constrained  to  admit  that  there  was  no  diminution  of 
his  love  for  her,  and  it  chastened  her  to  think  so.  "  Would 

it  be  the  same  with  me,  if  I ? "  she  half  framed  the 

sentence,  blushing  remorsefully  while  she  denied  that  any- 
thing could  change  her  great  love  for  her  brother.  She  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  Wilfrid's  suppleness  and  selfishness. 
Contrasting  him  with  Merthyr,  she  was  singularly  smitten 
with  shame,  she  knew  not  why. 

The  anticipation  of  the  ball  at  Penarvon  Castle  had  kin- 
dled very  little  curiosity  in  Emilia's  bosom.  She  seemed 
to  herself  a  machine ;  "  one  of  the  rest ; "  and  looked  more 
to  see  that  she  was  still  coveted  by  Merthyr's  eyes  than  at 
the  glitter  of  the  humming  saloons.  A  touch  of  her  old 
gladness  made  her  smile  when  Captain  Gambier  unex- 
pectedly appeared  and  walked  across  the  dancers  to  sit 
beside  her.  She  asked  him  why  he  had  come  from  Lon- 
don: to  which  he  replied,  with  a  most  expressive  gaze 
under  her  eyelids,  that  he  had  come  for  one  object.  "  To 
see  me?"  thought  Emilia,  wondering,  and  reddening  as 
she  ceased  to  wonder.  She  had  thought  as  a  child,  and  the 
next  instant  felt  as  a  woman.  He  finished  Merthyr's  work 
for  him.  Emilia  now  thought:  "Then  I  must  be  worth 
something."  And  with  "I  am,"  she  ended  her  meditation, 
glowing.  He  might  have  said  that  she  had  all  beauty  ever 


RAPE  OF  THE  BLACK-BRIONY   WREATH  S97 

showered  upon  woman :  she  would  have  been  led  to  believe 
him  at  that  moment  of  her  revival. 

Now,  Lady  Charlotte  had  written  to  Georgiana,  telling 
her  that  Captain  Gambler  was  soon  to  be  expected  in  her 
neighbourhood,  and  adding  that  it  would  be  as  well  if  she 
looked  closely  after  her  charge.  When  Georgiana  saw  him 
go  over  to  Emilia  she  did  not  remember  this  warning:  bat 
when  she  perceived  the  sudden  brilliancy  and  softness  in 
Emilia's  face  after  the  first  words  had  fallen  on  her  eara, 
she  grew  alarmed,  knowing  his  reputation,  and  executed 
some  diversions,  which  separated  them.  The  captain  made 
no  effort  to  perplex  her  tactics,  merely  saying  that  he  should 
call  in  a  day  or  two.  Merthyr  took  to  himself  all  the  credit 
of  the  visible  bloom  that  had  come  upon  Emilia,  and  pacing 
with  her  between  the  dances,  said:  "Now  you  will  come  to 
Italy,  I  think." 

She  paused  before  answering,  "Now?"  and  feverishly 
continued :  "  Yes ;  at  once.  I  will  go.  I  have  almost  felt 
my  voice  again  to-night." 

"  That's  well.  I  shall  write  to  Marini  to-morrow.  You 
will  soon  find  your  voice  if  you  will  not  fret  for  it.  Touch 
Italy!" 

"  Yes;  but  you  must  be  near  me,"  said  Emilia. 

Georgiana  heard  this,  and  could  not  conceive  other  than 
that  Emilia  was  growing  to  be  one  of  those  cormorant  creat- 
ures who  feed  alike  on  the  homage  of  noble  and  ignoble. 
She  was  critical,  too,  of  that  very  assured  pose  of  Emilia's 
head  and  firm  planting  of  her  feet  as  the  girl  paraded  the 
room  after  the  dances  in  which  she  could  not  join.     Pre- 
vious to  this  evening,  Georgiana  had  seen  nothing  of  the 
sort  in  her;  but,  on  the  contrary,  a  doubtful  droop  of  the 
shoulders  and  an  unwilling  gaze,  as  of  a  soul  submerged  i 
internal  hesitations.     "I  earnestly  trust  that  this  is  a 
mantic  folly  of  Merthyr's,  and  no  more,"  thought  G«orgi 
ana,  who  would  have  had  that  view  concerning  his  love if 
Italy  likewise,  if  recollection  of  her  own  share  of  adventu 
there  had  not  softly  interposed. 

Tracy,  Georgiana,  Merthyr,  and  Emilia  were  in  thejJJ- 
riage,  well  muffled  up,  with  one  window  open  to  the  whi* 
mist.     Emilia  was  eager  to  thank  her  friend,  if  only  f 
the  physical  relief  from  weariness  and  sluggishnes 


398  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

she  was  experiencing.  She  knew  certainly  that  the  dim 
light  of  a  recovering  confidence  in  herself  was  owing,  all, 
to  him,  and  burned  to  thank  him.  Once  on  the  way  their 
hands  touched,  and  he  felt  a  shy  pressure  from  her  fingers 
as  they  parted.  Presently  the  carriage  stopped  abruptly, 
and  listening  they  heard  the  coachman  indulge  his  companion 
outside  with  the  remark  that  they  were  a  couple  of  fools, 
and  were  now  regularly  'dished.' 

"  I  don't  see  why  that  observation  can't  go  on  wheels," 
said  Tracy. 

Merthyr  put  out  his  head,  and  saw  the  obstruction  of  the 
mass  of  stone  across  the  road.  He  alighted,  and  together 
with  the  footman,  examined  the  place  to  see  what  the  chance 
was  of  their  getting  the  carriage  past.  After  a  space  of  wait- 
ing, Georgiana  clutched  the  wraps  about  her  throat  and  head, 
and  impetuously  followed  her  brother,  as  her  habit  had  always 
.  been.  Emilia  sat  upright,  saying,  "  I  must  go  too."  Tracy 
moaned  a  petition  to  her  to  rest  and  be  comfortable  while  the 
Gods  were  propitious.  He  checked  her  with  his  arm,  and 
tried  to  pacify  her  by  giving  a  description  of  the  scene.  The 
coachman  remained  on  his  seat.  Merthyr,  Georgiana,  and 
the  footman  were  on  the  other  side  of  the  rock,  measuring 
the  place  to  see  whether,  by  a  partial  ascent  of  the  sloping 
rubble  down  which  it  had  bowled,  the  carriage  might  be  got 
along. 

"  Go ;  they  have  gone  round ;  see  whether  we  can  give  any 
help,"  said  Emilia  to  Tracy,  who  cried :  "  My  goodness ! 
what  help  can  we  give  ?  This  is  an  express  situation  where 
the  Fates  always  appear  in  person  and  move  us  on.  We're 
sure  to  be  moved,  if  we  show  proper  faith  in  them.  This  is 
my  attitude  of  invocation."  He  curled  his  legs  up  on  the 
seat,  resting  his  head  on  an  arm ;  but  seeing  Emilia  prepar- 
ing for  a  jump  he  started  up,  and  immediately  preceded  her. 
Emilia  looked  out  after  him.  She  perceived  a  figure  coming 
stealthily  from  the  bank.  It  stopped,  and  again  advanced, 
and  now  ran  swiftly  down.  She  drew  back  her  head  as 
it  approached  the  open  door  of  the  carriage ;  but  the  next 
moment  trembled  forward,  and  was  caught  with  a  cat-like 
clutch  upon  Wilfrid's  breast. 

"  Emilia !  my  own  for  ever !  I  swore  to  die  this  night  if 
I  did  not  see  you ! " 


RAPE  OF  THE  BLACK-BRIONY    WREATH  399 

"  You  love  me,  Wilfrid  ?  love  me  ?  " 

"  Come  with  me  now ! " 

"  Now  ?  " 

"  Away !  with  me !  your  lover  1 " 

"  Then  you  love  me  ! " 

"  I  love  you !    Come ! " 

"  Now  ?     I  cannot  move." 

"  I  am  out  in  the  night  without  you.*1 

"  Oh,  my  lover !     Oh,  Wilfrid !  * 

"  Come  to  me ! " 

"  My  feet  are  dead ! " 

"It's  too  late!" 

A  sturdy  hulloa !  sounding  from  the  coachman  made 
Merthyr's  ears  alive.  When  he  returned  he  found  Emilia 
huddled  up  on  the  seat,  alone,  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  the 
touch  of  her  hands  like  fire.  He  had  to  entreat  her  to  de- 
scend, and  in  helping  her  to  alight  bore  her  whole  weight, 
and  supported  her  in  a  sad  wonder,  while  the  horses  were  led 
across  the  rubble,  and  the  carriage  was  with  difficulty,  and 
some  confusions,  guided  to  clear  its  wheels  of  the  obstructing 
mass.  Emilia  persisted  in  saying  that  nothing  ailed  her; 
and  to  the  coachman,  who  could  have  told  him  something, 
and  was  willing  to  have  done  so  (notwithstanding  a  gold  fee 
for  silence  that  stuck  in  his  palm),  Merthyr  put  no  question. 

As  they  were  taking  their  seats  in  the  carriage  again, 
Georgiana  said,  "  Where  is  your  wreath,  Sandra  ?  " 

The  black-briony  wreath  was  no  longer  on  her  head. 

"  Then,  it  wasn't  a  dream !  "  gasped  Emilia,  feeling  at  her 
temples. 

Georgiana  at  once  fell  into  a  scrutinizing  coldness,  and 
when  Merthyr,  who  fancied  the  wreath  might  have  fallen  as 
he  was  lifting  Emilia  from  the  carriage,  proposed  to  go  and 
search  the  place  for  it,  his  sister  laid  her  fingers  on  his  arm, 
remarking,  "  You  will  not  find  it,  dear; "  and  Emilia  cried: 
"  Oh !  no,  no  !  it  is  not  there ;  "  and,  with  her  hands  pressed 
hard  against  her  bosom,  sat  fixed  and  silent. 

Out  of  this  mood  she  issued  with  looks  of  such  tenderness 
that  one  who  watched  her,  speculating  on  her  character  at 
Merthyr  did,  could  see  that  in  some  mysterious  way  she  had 
been,  during  the  few  minutes  that  separated  them,  illumined 
upon  the  matter  nearest  her  heart  Was  it  her  own  strength, 


400  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

inspired  by  some  sublime  force,  that  had  sprung  up  suddenly 
to  eject  a  worthless  love  ?  So  he  hoped  in  despite  of  whis- 
pering reason,  till  Georgiana  spoke  to  him. 


CHAPTER  XLVII 

THE   CALL   TO   ACTION 

WHEN  the  force  of  Wilfrid's  embrace  had  died  out  from 
*er  body,  Emilia  conceived  wilfully  that  she  had  seen  an 
apparition,  so  strange,  sudden,  and  wild  had  been  his  coming 
and  going :  but  her  whole  body  was  a  song  to  her.  "  He  is 
not  false:  he  is  true."  So  dimly,  however,  was  the  'he' 
now  fashioned  in  her  brain,  and  so  like  a  thing  of  the  air 
had  he  descended  on  her,  that  she  almost  conceived  the 
abstract  idea,  '  Love  is  true,'  and  possibly,  though  her  senses 
did  not  touch  on  it  to  shape  it,  she  had  the  reflection  in  her : 
"  After  all,  power  is  mine  to  bring  him  to  my  side."  Almost 
it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  brought  him  from  the  grave. 
She  sat  hugging  herself  in  the  carriage,  hating  to  hear  words, 
and  seeing  a  ball  of  fire  away  in  the  white  mist.  Georgiana 
looked  at  her  no  more ;  and  when  Tracy  remarked  that  he 
had  fancied  having  seen  a  fellow  running  up  the  bank,  she 
said  quietly,  "  Did  you  ?  " 

"  Robert  must  have  seen  him,  too,"  added  Merthyr,  and 
so  the  interloper  was  dismissed. 

On  reaching  home,  no  sooner  were  they  in  the  hall  than 
Emilia  called  for  her  bedroom  candle  in  a  thin,  querulous 
voice  that  made  Tracy  shout  with  laughter  and  love  of  her 
quaintness. 

Emilia  gave  him  her  hand,  and  held  up  her  mouth  to  kiss 
Georgiana,  but  no  cheek  was  bent  forward  for  the  salute. 
The  girl  passed  from  among  them,  and  then  Merthyr  said 
to  his  sister :  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Surely,  Merthyr,  you  should  not  be  at  a  loss,"  she  an- 
swered, in  a  somewhat  unusual  tone,  that  was  half  irony. 

Merthyr  studied  her  face.  Alone  with  her,  he  said :  "  I 
could  almost  suppose  that  she  has  seen  this  man." 


THE  CALL  TO  ACTION  401 

Georgiana  smiled  sadly.  "I  have  not  seen  him,  dear; 
and  she  has  not  told  ine  so." 

"  You  think  it  was  so  ?  " 

"  I  can  imagine  it  just  possible." 

"  What !  while  we  were  out  and  had  left  her !  He  must 
be  mad ! " 

"  Not  necessarily  mad,  unless  to  be  without  principle  is  to 
be  mad." 

"  Mad,  or  graduating  for  a  Spanish  come'die  d'intrigue," 
said  Merthyr.  "  What  on  earth  can  he  mean  by  it  ?  If  he 
must  see  her,  let  him  come  here.  But  to  dog  a  carriage  at 
midnight,  and  to  prefer  to  act  startling  surprises !  —  one 
can't  help  thinking  that  he  delights  in  being  a  stage-hero." 

Georgiana's :  "  If  he  looks  on  her  as  a  stage-heroine  ?  * 
was  unheeded,  and  he  pursued :  "  She  must  leave  England 
at  once,"  and  stated  certain  arrangements  that  were  imme- 
diately to  be  made. 

"You  will  not  give  up  this  task  you  have  imposed  on 
yourself  ?  "  she  said. 

"  To  do  what  ?  " 

She  could  have  answered :  "  To  make  this  unsatisfactory 
creature  love  you ; "  but  her  words  were,  "  To  civilize  this 
little  pavage." 

Merthyr  was  bright  in  a  moment:  "I  don't  give  up  till  I 
see  failure." 

"  Is  it  not  possible,  dear,  to  be  dangerously  blind  ?  "  urged 
Georgiana. 

"  Keep  to  the  particular  case,"  he  returned ;  "  and  don't 
tempt  me  into  your  woman's  snare  of  a  generalization.  If  s 
possible,  of  course,  to  be  one-ideaed  and  obstinate.  But  I 
have  not  yet  seen  your  savage  guilty  of  a  deceit  Her  heart 
has  been  stirred,  and  her  heart,  as  you  may  judge,  has  force 
enough  to  be  constant,  though  none  can  deny  that  it  has 
been  roughly  proved." 

"  For  which  you  like  her  better  ?  "  said  Georgiana,  herself 
brightening. 

"For  which  I  like  her  better,"  he  replied,  and  smiled, 
perfectly  armed. 

"  Oh !  is  it  because  I  am  a  woman  that  I  do  not  under- 
stand this  sort  of  friendship?"  cried  Georgiana.  "And 
from  you,  Merthyr,  to  a  girl  such  as  she  is !  Me  she  satis- 


^02  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

fies  less  and  less.  You  speak  of  force  of  heart,  as  if  it  were 
manifested  in  an  abandonment  of  personal  will." 

"No,  my  darling,  but  in  the  strong  conception  of  a 
passion." 

"  Yes ;  if  she  had  discriminated,  and  fixed  upon  a  worthy 
object!" 

"That,"  rejoined  Merthyr,  "is  akin  to  the  doctrine  of 
justification  by  success." 

"You  seek  to  foil  me  with  sophisms,"  said  Georgiana, 
warming.  "  A  woman — even  a  girl — should  remember  what 
is  due  to  herself.  You  are  attracted  by  a  passionate  nature 
—  I  mean,  men  are." 

"  The  general  instance,"  assented  Merthyr. 

"  Then,  do  you  never  reflect,"  pursued  Georgiana,  "  on 
the  composition  and  the  elements  of  that  sort  of  nature  ? 
I  have  tried  to  think  the  best  of  it.  It  seems  to  me  still  — 
no,  not  contemptible  at  all  —  but  selfishness  is  the  ground- 
work of  it;  a  brilliant  selfishness,  I  admit.  I  see  that  it 
shows  its  best  feature,  but  is  it  the  nobler  for  that  ?  I 
think,  and  I  must  think,  that  excellence  is  a  point  to  be 
reached  only  by  unselfishness,  and  that  usefulness  is  the 
test  of  excellence." 

"  Before  there  has  been  any  trial  of  her  ?  "  asked  Merthyr. 
"  Have  you  not  been  a  little  too  eager  to  put  the  test  to  her  ?  " 

Georgiana  reluctantly  consented  to  have  her  argument 
attached  to  a  single  person.  "  She  is  not  a  child,  Merthyr." 

"  Ay ;  but  she  should  be  thought  one." 

"  I  confess  I  am  utterly  at  sea,"  Georgiana  sighed.  "  Will 
you  at  least  allow  that  sordid  selfishness  does  less  mischief 
than  this  '  passion '  you  admire  so  much  ?  " 

"  I  will  allow  that  she  may  do  herself  more  mischief  than 
if  she  had  the  opposite  vice  of  avarice  —  anything  you  will, 
of  that  complexion." 

"  And  why  should  she  be  regarded  as  a  child  ? "  asked 
Georgiana  piteously. 

"  Because,  if  she  has  outnumbered  the  years  of  a  child, 
she  is  no  further  advanced  than  a  child,  owing  to  what  she 
has  to  get  rid  of.  She  is  overburdened  with  sensations  that 
set  her  head  on  fire.  Her  solid,  firm,  and  gentle  heart  keeps 
her  balanced,  so  long  as  there  is  no  one  playing  on  it.  That 
a  fool  should  be  doing  so,  is  scarcely  her  fault." 


THE  CALL  TO  ACTION  408 

Georgiana  murmured  to  herself,  "  He  is  not  a  fool."  She 
said,  "  I  do  see  a  certain  truth  in  what  you  say,  dear  Mer- 
thyr.  But  I  have  been  disappointed  in  her.  I  have  taken 
her  among  my  poor.  She  listens  to  their  tales,  without 
sympathy.  I  took  her  into  a  sick-room.  She  stood  by  a 
dying  bed  like  a  statue.  Her  remark  when  we  came  into 
the  air  was,  '  Death  seems  easy,  if  it  were  not  so  stifling ! ' 
Herself  always !  herself  the  centre  of  what  she  sees  and 
feels !  And  again,  she  has  no  active  desire  to  do  good  to 
any  mortal  thing.  A  passive  wish  that  everybody  should 
be  happy,  I  know  she  has.  Few  have  not.  She  would  give 
money  if  she  had  it.  But  this  is  among  the  mysteries  of 
Providence  to  me,  that  one  so  indifferent  to  others  should 
be  gifted  with  so  inexplicable  a  power  of  attraction." 

Merthyr  put  this  case  to  her :  "  Suppose  you  saw  any  of 
the  poor  souls  you  wait  on  lying  sick  with  fever,  woufd  it 
be  just  to  describe  the  character  of  one  so  situated  as  fretful, 
ungrateful,  of  rambling  tongue,  poor  in  health,  and  gener- 
ally of  loose  condition  of  mind  ?  " 

"  There,  again,  is  that  foreign  doctrine  which  exults  in  the 
meanest  triumphs  by  getting  the  thesis  granted  that  we  are 
animal  —  only  animals ! "  Georgiana  burst  out.  "  You  argue 
that  at  this  season  and  at  that  season  she  is  helpless.  If 
she  is  a  human  creature,  must  she  not  have  a  mind  to  cover 
those  conditions  ?  " 

"And  a  mind,"  Merthyr  took  her  up,  "specially  expe- 
rienced, armed,  and  alert  to  be  a  safeguard  to  her  at  the 
most  critical  period  of  her  life !  Oh,  yes !  "Whether  she 
'must'  have  it  is  one  thing;  but  no  one  can  contest  the 
value  of  such  a  jewel  to  any  young  person." 

Georgiana  stood  silenced;  and  knew  later  that  she  had 
been  silenced  by  a  fallacy.  For,  is  youth  the  most  critical 
period  of  life  ?  Neither  brother  nor  sister,  however,  were 
talking  absolutely  for  the  argument.  Beneath  this  dialogue, 
the  current  in  her  mind  pressed  to  elicit  some  avowal  of  his 
personal  feeling  for  the  girl,  toward  whom  Georgiana's  dis- 
position was  kindlier  than  her  words  might  lead  one  to 
think.  He,  on  the  other  hand,  talked  with  the  distinct 
object  of  disguising  his  feelings  under  a  tone  of  moderate 
friendship  for  Emilia,  that  was  capable  of  excusing  her.  A 
sensitive  man  of  thirty  odd  years  does  not  loudly  proclaim 


404  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

his  appreciation  of  a  girl  under  twenty :  moreover,  Merthyi 
wished  to  spare  his  sister. 

He  thought  of  questioning  Eobert,  the  coachman,  whether 
anyone  had  visited  the  carriage  during  his  five  minutes' 
absence  from  it :  but  Merthyr's  peculiar  Welsh  delicacy  kept 
him  from  doing  that,  hard  as  it  was  to  remain  in  doubt  and 
endure  the  little  poisoned  shafts  of  a  suspicion. 

In  the  morning  there  was  a  letter  from  Marini  on  the 
breakfast-table.  Merthyr  glanced  down  the  contents.  His 
countenance  flashed  with  a  marvellous  light.  "  Where  is 
she  ?  "  he  said,  looking  keenly  for  Emilia. 

Emilia  came  in  from  the  garden. 

"  Now,  my  Sandra ! "  cried  Merthyr,  waving  the  letter  to 
her ;  "  can  you  pack  up,  to  start  in  an  hour  ?  There's  work 
coming  on  for  us,  and  I  shall  be  a  boy  again,  and  not  the 
drumstick  I  am  in  this  country.  I  have  a  letter  from  Marini. 
All  Lombardy  is  prepared  to  rise,  and  this  time  the  business 
will  be  done.  Marini  is  off  for  Genoa.  Under  the  orange- 
trees,  my  Sandra !  and  looking  on  the  bay,  singing  of  Italy 
free ! " 

Emilia  fell  back  a  step,  eyeing  him  with  a  grave  expression 
of  wonder,  as  if  she  beheld  another  being  from  the  one  she 
had  hitherto  known.  The  calm  Englishman  had  given  place 
to  a  volcanic  spirit. 

"  Isn't  that  the  sketch  we  made  ?  "  he  resumed.  "  The 
plot's  perfect.  I  detest  conspiracies,  but  we  must  use  what 
weapons  we  can,  and  be  Old  Mole,  if  they  trample  us  in  the 
earth.  Once  up,  we  have  Turin  to  back  us.  This  I  know. 
We  shall  have  nothing  but  the  Tedeschi  to  manage :  and  if 
they  beat  us  in  cavalry,  it's  certain  that  they  can't  rely  on 
their  light  horse.  The  Magyars  would  break  in  a  charge. 
We  know  that  they  will.  As  for  the  rest :  — 

'  Soldati  settentri'onali, 
Come  sarebbe  Boemi  e  Croat!,' 

we  are  a  match  for  them  !  Artillery  we  shall  get.  The  Pied- 
montese  are  mad  for  the  signal.  Come ;  sit  and  eat.  The  air 
seems  dead  down  in  this  quiet  country;  we're  out  of  the 
stream.  I  must  rush  up  to  London  to  breathe,  and  then  we 
won't  lose  a  moment.  We  shall  be  in  Italy  in  four  days. 
Four  days,  my  Sandra!  And  Italy  going  to  be  free  I 


THE  CALL  TO  ACTION  405 

Georgey,  I'm  fasting.  And  you  will  see  all  your  old  friends 
All?  Good  God!  No!  — not  all!  Their  blood  shall  nervi 
us.  The  Austrian  thinks  he  -wastes  us  by  slaughter.  With 
every  dead  man  he  doubles  the  life  of  the  living!  Am  I 
talking  like  a  foreigner,  Sandra  mia  ?  My  child,  you  don't 
eat!  And  I,  who  dreamed  last  night  that  I  looked  out  over 
Novara  from  the  height  of  the  Col  di  Colma,  and  saw  the 
plain  under  a  red  shadow  from  a  huge  eagle ! " 

Merthyr  laughed,  swinging  round  his  arm.  Emilia  con- 
tinued staring  at  him  as  at  a  man  transformed,  while 
Georgiana  asked :  "  May  Marini's  letter  be  seen  ?  "  Her 
visage  had  become  firm  and  set  in  proportion  as  her  brother's 
excitement  increased. 

"  Eat,  my  Sandra !  eat ! "  called  Merthyr,  who  was  him- 
self eating  with  a  campaigning  appetite. 

Georgiana  laid  down  the  letter  folded  under  Merthyr's 
fingers,  keeping  her  hand  on  it  till  he  grew  alive  to  her 
meaning,  that  it  should  be  put  away. 

"  Marini  is  vague  about  artillery,"  she  murmured. 

"Vague!"  echoed  Merthyr.  "Say  prudent.  If  he  said 
we  could  lay  hands  on  fifty  pieces,  then  distrust  him ! n 

"  God  grant  that  this  be  not  another  pit  for  further  fruitless 
bloodshed!"  was  the  interjection  standing  in  Georgiana's 
eyes,  and  then  she  dropped  them  pensively,  while  Merthyr 
recounted  the  patient  schemes  that  had  led  to  this  hour,  the 
unuttered  anxieties  and  the  bursting  hopes. 

Still  Emilia  kept  her  distressfully  unenthusiastic  looks 
turned  from  one  to  the  other,  though  her  Italy  was  the 
theme.  She  did  not  eat,  but  had  dropped  one  hand  flat  on 
her  plate,  looking  almost  idiotic.  She  heard  of  Italy  as  of  a 
distant  place,  known  to  her  in  ancient  years.  Merthyr*s 
transformation,  too,  helped  some  form  of  illusion  in  her 
brain  that  she  was  cut  off  from  any  kindred  feeling  with 
other  people. 

As  soon  as  he  had  finished,  Merthyr  jumped  up;  and 
coming  round  to  Emilia,  touched  her  shoulder  affectionately. 
saying :  "  Now !  There  won't  be  much  packing  to  da  We 
shall  be  in  London  to-night  in  time  for  your  mother  to  pass 
the  evening  with  you." 

Emilia  rose  straightway,  and  her  eyes  fell  vacantly  on 
Georgiana  for  help,  as  far  as  they  could  express  anything. 


406  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

Georgiana  gave  no  response,  save  a  look  well  nigh  as 
vacant  in  the  interchange. 

"  But  you  haven't  eaten  at  all ! "  said  Merthyr. 

Emilia  shook  her  head.     "  No." 

"  Eat,  my  Sandra !  to  please  me !  You  -will  need  all  your 
strength  if  you  would  be  a  match  for  Georgey  anywhere 
•where  there's  action." 

"  Yes  ! "  Emilia  traversed  his  words  with  a  sudden  outcry. 
"  Yes,  I  will  go  to  London.  I  am  ready  to  go  to  London 
now." 

It  was  clear  that  a  new  light  had  fallen  on  her  intelligence. 

Merthyr  was  satisfied  to  see  her  sit  down  to  the  table,  and 
he  at  once  went  out  to  issue  directions  for  the  first  step  in 
the  new  and  momentous  expedition. 

Emilia  put  the  bread  to  her  mouth,  and  crumbled  it  on  a 
dry  lip :  but  it  was  evident  to  Georgiana,  hostile  witness  as 
she  was,  that  Emilia's  mind  was  gradually  warming  to  what 
Merthyr  had  said,  and  that  a  picture  was  passing  before  the 
girl.  She  perceived  also  a  thing  that  no  misery  of  her  own 
had  yet  drawn  from  Emilia.  It  was  a  tear  that  fell  heavily 
on  the  back  of  her  hand.  Soon  the  tears  came  in  quick  suc- 
cession, while  the  girl  tried  to  eat,  and  bit  at  salted  morsels. 
It  was  a  strange  sight  for  Georgiana,  this  statuesque  weep- 
ing, that  got  human  bit  by  bit,  till  the  bosom  heaved  long 
sobs  :  and  yet  tio  turn  of  the  head  for  sympathy ;  nothing 
but  passionless  shedding  of  big  tear-drops ! 

She  went  to  the  girl,  and  put  her  hand  upon  her ;  kissed 
her,  and  then  said :  "  We  have  no  time  to  lose.  My  brother 
never  delays  when  he  has  come  to  a  resolve." 

Emilia  tried  to  articulate :  "  I  am  ready." 

"  But  you  have  not  eaten ! " 

Emilia  made  a  mechanical  effort  to  eat. 

"  Remember,"  said  Georgiana,  "  we  have  a  long  distance 
to  go.  You  will  want  your  strength.  You  would  not  be  a 
burden  to  him  ?  Eat,  while  I  get  your  things  ready."  And 
Georgiana  left  her,  secretly  elated  to  feel  that  in  this  expe- 
dition it  was  she,  and  she  alone,  who  was  Merthyr's  mate. 
WTiat  storm  it  was,  and  what  conflict,  agitated  the  girl  and 
stupefied  her,  she  cared  not  to  guess,  now  that  she  had  the 
suitable  designation,  '  savage/  confirmed  in  all  her  acts,  to 
apply  to  her. 


CONTAINS   A  FURTHER   VIEW  OF  SENTIMENT    407 

When  Tracy  Runningbrook  caine  down  at  his  ordinary 
hour  of  noon  to  breakfast,  he  found  a  twisted  note  from 
Georgiana,  telling  him  that  important  matters  had  summoned 
Merthyr  to  London,  and  that  they  were  all  to  be  seen  at 
Lady  Gosstre's  town-house. 

"  I  believe,  by  Jove !  Powys  manoeuvres  to  get  her  away 
from  me"  he  shouted,  and  sat  down  to  his  breakfast  and  his 
book  with  a  comforted  mind.  It  was  not  Georgiana  to  whom 
he  alluded ;  but  the  appearance  of  Captain  Gambier,  and  the 
pronounced  discomposure  visible  in  the  handsome  face  of  the 
captain  on  his  hearing  of  the  departure,  led  Tracy  to  think 
that  Georgiana's  was  properly  deplored  by  another,  though 
that  other  was  said  to  be  engaged.  '  On  revient  toujours/ 
he  hummed. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 

CONTAINS   A  FURTHER  VIEW  OF   SENTIMENT 

THREE  days  passed  as  a  running  dream  to  Emilia.  During 
that  period  she  might  have  been  hurried  off  to  Italy  without 
uttering  a  remonstrance.  Merthyr's  spirited  talk  of  the 
country  she  called  her  own ;  of  its  heroic  youth  banded  to 
rise,  and  sworn  to  liberate  it  or  die ;  of  good  historic  names 
borne  by  men,  his  comrades,  in  old  campaigning  adventures ; 
and  stories  and  incidents  of  those  past  days  —all  given  wit! 
his  changed  face,  and  changed  ringing  voice,  almost  moved 
her  to  plunge  forgetfully  into  this  new  tumultuous  stream  : 
while  the  picture  of  the  beloved  land,  lying  shrouded  beneath 
the  perilous  star  it  was  about  to  follow  grew  in  her  mind. 

"  Shall  I  go  with  the  Army  ?  "  she  asked  Georgiana. 

"No,  my  child;  you  will  simply  go  to  school,"  was 
cold  reply. 

"To  school!"  Emilia  throbbed,  "while  they  are  fight, 

m  "  To  the  Academy.    My  brother's  first  thought  is  to  further 
your  progress  in  Art.     When  your  artistic  education  is 
plete,  you  will  choose  your  own  course." 

"  He  knows,  he  knows  that  I  have  no  voice  I' 


408  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

struck  her  lap  with  twisted  fingers.  "  My  voice  is  thick  in 
iny  throat.  If  I  am  not  to  march  with  him,  I  can't  go ;  I 
will  not  go.  I  want  to  see  the  fight.  You  have.  Why 
should  I  keep  away  ?  Could  I  run  up  notes,  even  if  I  had 
any  voice,  while  he  is  in  the  cannon-smoke  ?  " 

"  While  he  is  in  the  cannon-smoke ! "  Georgiana  revolved 
the  line  thoughtfully.  "  You  are  aware  that  my  brother 
looks  forward  to  the  recovery  of  your  voice,"  she  said. 

"  My  voice  is  like  a  dead  serpent  in  my  throat,"  rejoined 
Emilia.  "  My  voice  !  I  have  forgotten  music.  I  lived  for 
that,  once ;  now  I  live  for  nothing,  only  to  take  my  chance 
everywhere  with  my  friend.  I  want  to  smell  powder.  My 
father  says  it  is  like  salt,  the  taste  of  blood,  and  is  like  wine 
when  you  smell  it.  I  have  heard  him  shout  for  it.  I  will 
go  to  Italy,  if  I  may  go  where  my  friend  Merthyr  goes; 
but  nothing  can  keep  me  shut  up  now.  My  head's  a  wilder- 
ness when  I'm  in  houses.  I  can  scarcely  bear  to  hear  this 
London  noise,  without  going  out  and  walking  till  I  drop." 

Coming  to  a  knot  in  her  meditation,  Georgiana  concluded 
that  Emilia's  heart  was  warming  to  Merthyr.  She  was 
speedily  doubtful  again. 

These  two  delicate  Welsh  natures,  as  exacting  as  they 
were  delicate,  were  little  pleased  with  Emilia's  silence  con- 
cerning her  intercourse  with  Wilfrid.  Merthyr,  who  had 
expressed  in  her  defence  what  could  be  said  for  her,  was 
unwittingly  cherishing  what  could  be  thought  in  her  dis- 
favour. Neither  of  them  hit  on  the  true  cause,  which  lay 
in  Georgiana' s  coldness  to  her.  One  little  pressure  of  her 
hand,  carelessly  given,  made  Merthyr  better  aware  of  the 
nature  he  was  dealing  with.  He  was  telling  her  that  a 
further  delay  might  keep  them  in  London  for  a  week;  and 
that  he  had  sent  for  her  mother  to  come  to  her. 

"I  must  see  my  mother,"  she  had  said,  excitedly.  The 
extension  of  the  period  named  for  quitting  England  made  it 
more  imminent  in  her  imagination  than  when  it  was  a 
matter  of  hours.  "I  must  see  her." 

"  I  have  sent  for  her, "  said  Merthyr,  and  then  pressed 
Emilia's  hand.  But  she  who,  without  having  brooded  on 
complaints  of  its  absence,  thirsted  for  demonstrative  kind- 
ness, clung  to  the  hand,  drawing  it,  doubled,  against  her 
chin. 


CONTAINS  A  FURTHER   VIEW  OP  SENTIMENT     4U« 

"That  is  not  the  reason,"  she  said,  raising  her  full  eyes 
up  at  him  over  the  unrelinquished  hand.  "  I  love  the  poor 
Madre ;  let  her  come ;  but  I  have  no  heart  for  her  just  now. 
I  have  seen  Wilfrid." 

She  took  a  tighter  hold  of  his  fingers,  as  fearing  he  might 
shrink  from  her.  Merthyr  hated  mysteries,  so  he  said.  "  I 
supposed  it  must  have  been  so  —  that  night  of  our  return 
from  Penarvon?  " 

"  Yes, "  she  murmured,  while  she  read  his  face  for  a  shadow 
of  a  repulsion;  "and,  my  friend,  I  cannot  go  to  Italy  now!  " 

Merthyr  immediately  drew  a  seat  beside  her.  He  p«r- 
ceived  that  there  would  be  no  access  to  her  reason,  even  as 
he  was  on  the  point  of  addressing  it. 

"  Then  all  my  care  and  trouble  are  to  be  thrown  away?  " 
he  said,  taking  the  short  road  to  her  feelings. 

She  put  the  hand  that  was  disengaged  softly  on  his  shoul- 
der. "No;  not  thrown  away.  Let  me  be  what  Merthyr 
wishes  me  to  be!  That  is  my  chief  prayer." 

"  Why,  then,  will  you  not  do  what  Merthyr  wishes  you 
to  do?" 

Emilia's  eyelids  shut,  while  her  face  still  fronted  him. 

"  Oh !  I  will  speak  all  out  to  you, "  she  cried.  "  Merthyr, 

my  friend,  he  came  to  kiss  me  once,  before I  have 

only  just  understood  it!  He  is  going  to  Austria.  He  came 
to  touch  me  for  the  last  time  before  his  hand  is  red  with  my 
blood.  Stop  him  from  going!  I  am  ready  to  follow  you: 
—  I  can  hear  of  his  marrying  that  woman :  —  Oh !  I  cannot 
live  and  think  of  him  in  that  Austrian  white  coat.  Poor 
thing! — my  dear!  my  dear!"  And  she  turned  away  her 
head. 

It  is  not  unnatural  that  Merthyr  hearing  these  soft  epi- 
thets, should  disbelieve  in  the  implied  self-conquest  of  her 
preceding  words.  He  had  no  clue  to  make  him  guess  that 
these  were  simply  old  exclamations  of  hers  brought  to  her 
lips  by  the  sorrowful  contrast  in  her  mind. 

"  It  will  be  better  that  you  should  see  him,"  he  said,  with 
less  of  his  natural  sincerity;  so  soon  are  we  corrupted  by 
any  suspicion  that  our  egoism  prompts. 

"  Here?  "  And  she  hung  close  to  him,  open-lipped,  open- 
eyed,  open-eared,  as  if  (Georgiana  would  think  it,  thought 
Merthyr)  her  savage  senses  had  laid  the  trap  for  this  pro- 


410  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

posal,  and  now  sprung  up  keen  for  their  prey.  "Here, 
Merthyr?  Yes!  let  me  see  him.  You  will!  Let  me  see 
him,  for  he  cannot  resist  me.  He  tries.  He  thinks  he 
does:  but  he  cannot.  I  can  stretch  out  my  finger  —  I  can 
put  it  on  the  day  when,  if  he  has  galloped  one  way  he  will 
gallop  another.  Let  him  come." 

She  held  up  both  her  hands  in  petition,  half  dropping  her 
eyelids,  with  a  shadowy  beauty. 

In  Merthyr's  present  view,  the  idea  of  Wilfrid  being  in 
ranks  opposed  to  him  was  so  little  provocative  of  intense 
dissatisfaction,  that  it  was  out  of  his  power  to  believe  that 
Emilia  craved  to  see  him  simply  to  dissuade  the  man  from 
the  obnoxious  step. 

"Ah,  well!  See  him;  see  him,  if  you  must,"  he  said. 
"  Arrange  it  with  my  sister." 

He  quitted  the  room,  shrinking  from  the  sound  of  her 
thanks,  and  still  more  from  the  consciousness  of  his  tor- 
ment. 

The  business  that  detained  him  was  to  get  money  for 
Marini.  Georgiana  placed  her  fortune  at  his  disposal  a  sec- 
ond time.  There  was  his  own,  which  he  deemed  it  no  excess 
of  chivalry  to  fling  into  the  gulf.  The  two  sat  together, 
arranging  what  property  should  be  sold,  and  how  they  would 
share  the  sacrifice  in  common.  Georgiana  pressed  him  to 
dispose  of  a  little  estate  belonging  to  her,  that  money  might 
immediately  be  raised.  They  talked  as  they  sat  over  the 
fire  toward  the  dusk  of  the  winter  evening. 

"You  would  not  have  refused  me  once,  Merthyr! n 

"  When  you  were  a  child,  and  I  hardly  better  than  a  boy. 
Now  it's  different.  Let  mine  go  first,  Georgey.  You  may 
have  a  husband,  who  will  not  look  on  these  things  as  we  do." 

"How  can  I  love  a  husband!"  was  all  she  said;  and 
Merthyr  took  her  in  his  arms.  His  gaiety  had  gone. 

"We  can't  go  dancing  into  a  pit  of  this  sort,"  he  sighed, 
partly  to  baffle  the  scrutiny  he  apprehended  in  her  silence. 
"The  garrison  at  Milan  is  doubled,  and  I  hear  they  are 
marching  troops  through  Tyrol.  Some  alerte  has  been 
given,  and  probably  some  traitors  exist.  One  wouldn't  like 
to  be  shot  like  a  dog!  You  haven't  forgotten  poor  Tarani? 
I  heard  yesterday  of  the  girl  who  calls  herself  his  widow. " 

"  They  were  betrothed,  and  she  is !  "  exclaimed  Georgiana. 


CONTAINS   A  FURTHER   VIEW   OF  SENTIMENT     411 

"Well,  there's  a  case  of  a  man  who  had  two  lores  —  a 
woman  and  his  country ;  and  both  true  to  him ! " 

"  And  is  he  so  singular,  Merthyr?  " 

"No,  my  best!  my  sweetest!  my  heart's  rest!  no!" 

They  exchanged  tender  smiles. 

"Tarani's  bride  —  beloved!  you  can  listen  to  such  mat- 
ters —  she  has  undertaken  her  task.  Who  imposed  it?  I 
confess  I  faint  at  the  thought  of  things  so  sad  and  shameful. 
But  I  dare  not  sit  in  judgement  on  a  people  suffering  as  they 
are.  Outrage  upon  outrage  they  have  endured,  and  that 
deadens  —  or  rather  makes  their  heroism  unscrupulous. 
Tarani's  bride  is  one  of  the  few  fair  girls  of  Italy.  We 
have  a  lock  of  her  hair.  She  shore  it  close  the  morning 
her  lover  was  shot,  and  wore  the  thin  white  skull-cap  you 
remember,  until  it  was  whispered  to  her  that  her  beauty 
must  serve." 

"  I  have  the  lock  now  in  my  desk,"  said  Georgiana,  begin- 
ning to  tremble.  "  Do  you  wish  to  look  at  it?  " 

"Yes;  fetch  it,  my  darling." 

He  sat  eyeing  the  firelight  till  she  returned,  and  then 
taking  the  long  golden  lock  in  his  hand,  he  squeezed  it,  full 
of  bitter  memories  and  sorrowfulness. 

"  Giulietta?  "  breathed  his  sister. 

"I  would  put  my  life  on  the  truth  of  that  woman's  love. 
Well! " 

"Yes?" 

"  She  abandons  herself  to  the  commandant  of  the  citadel." 

A  low  outcry  burst  from  Georgiana.  She  fell  at  Mer- 
thyr's  knees  sobbing  violently.  He  let  her  sob.  In  the 
end  she  struggled  to  speak. 

"Oh!  can  it  be  permitted?  Oh!  can  we  not  save  her? 
Oh,  poor  soul!  my  sister!  Is  she  blind  to  her  lover  in 
heaven?" 

Georgiana's  face  was  dyed  with  shame. 

"We  must  put  these  things  by,"  said  Merthyr. 
Emilia  presently,  and  tell  her  — settle  with  her  as  you 
think  fitting,  how  she  shall  see  this  Wilfrid  Pole. 
promised  her  she  shall  have  her  wish." 

Coloured  by  the  emotion  she  was  burning  from,  mm 
words  smote  Georgiana  with  a  mournful  compassion  f 
Merthyr. 


412  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

He  had  risen,  and  by  that  she  knew  that  nothing  could  be 
said  to  alter  his  will. 

A  sentimental  pair  likewise,  if  you  please;  but  these 
were  sentimentalists  who  served  an  active  deity,  and  not 
that  arbitrary  projection  of  a  subtle  selfishness  which  rules 
the  fairer  portion  of  our  fat  England. 


CHAPTER  XLIX 

BETWEEN  EMILIA   AND   GEORGIANA 

"  MY  brother  tells  me  it  is  your  wish  to  see  Mr.  Wilfrid 
Pole." 

Emilia's  "Yes"  came  faintly  in  answer  to  Georgiana's 
cold  accents. 

"  Have  you  considered  what  you  are  doing  in  expressing 
such  a  desire?" 

Another  "  Yes  "  was  heard  from  under  an  unlif ted  head : 

—  a  culprit  affirmative,  whereat  the  just  take  fire. 

"  Be  honest,  Emilia.  Seek  counsel  and  guidance  to-night, 
as  you  have  done  before  with  me,  and  profited,  I  think.  If 
I  write  to  bid  him  come,  what  will  it  mean?  " 

"Nothing  more,"  breathed  Emilia. 

"  To  him  —  for  in  his  way  he  seems  to  care  for  you  fitfully 

—  it  will  mean  —  stop !   hear  me.     The  words  you  speak 
will  have  no  part  of  the  meaning,  even  if  you  restrain  your 
tongue.     To  him  it  will  imply  that  his  power  over  you  is 
unaltered.     I  suppose  that  the  task  of  making  you  perceive 
the  effect  it  really  will  have  on  you  is  hopeless." 

"I  have  seen  him,  and  I  know,"  said  Emilia,  in  a  corre- 
sponding tone. 

"You  saw  him  that  night  of  our  return  from  Penarvon? 
Judge  of  him  by  that.  He  would  not  spare  you.  To  grat- 
ify I  know  not  what  wildness  in  his  nature,  he  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  open  your  old  wound.  And  to  what  purpose?  A 
freak  of  passion !  " 

"  He  could  not  help  it.  I  told  him  he  would  come,  and 
he  came." 


BETWEEN   EMILIA  AND  QEOROIANA  413 

"This,  possibly,  you  call  love;  do  you  not  ?" 

Emilia  was  about  to  utter  a  plain  affirmative,  but  it  was 
checked.  The  novelty  of  the  idea  of  its  not  being  love 
arrested  her  imagination. 

"If  he  comes  to  you  here,"  resumed  Georgiana  — 

"  He  must  come  !  "  cried  Emilia. 

"My  brother  has  sanctioned  it,  so  his  coming  or  not  will 
rest  with  him.  If  he  comes,  let  me  know  the  good  that  you 
think  will  result  from  an  interview?  Ah!  you  have  not 
weighed  that  question.  Do  so;  —  or  you  give  no  heed  to 
it?  In  any  case,  try  to  look  into  your  own  breast.  You 
were  not  born  to  live  unworthily.  You  can  be,  or  will  be, 
if  you  follow  your  better  star,  self-denying  and  noble.  Do 
you  not  love  your  country?  Judge  of  this  love  by  that. 
Your  love,  if  you  have  this  power  over  him,  is  merely  a 
madness  to  him ;  and  his  —  what  has  it  done  for  you?  If 
he  comes,  and  this  begins  again,  there  will  be  a  similar  if 
not  the  same  destiny  for  you." 

Emilia  panted  in  her  reply.  "No;  it  will  not  begin 
again."  She  threw  out  both  arms,  shaking  her  head.  "It 
cannot,  I  know.  What  am  I  now?  It  is  what  I  was  that 
he  loves.  He  will  not  know  what  I  am  till  he  sees  me. 
And  I  know  that  I  have  done  things  that  he  cannot  forgive. 
You  have  forgiven  it,  and  Merthyr,  because  he  is  my  friend; 
but  I  am  sure  Wilfrid  will  not.  He  might  pardon  the  poor 
'me,'  but  not  his  Emilia!  I  shall  have  to  tell  him  what  I 
did;  so"  (and  she  came  closer  to  Georgiana)  "there  is  some 
pain  for  me  in  seeing  him." 

Georgiana  was  not  proof  against  this  simplicity  of  speech, 
backed  by  a  little  dying  dimple,  which  seemed  a  continua- 
tion of  the  plain  sadness  of  Emilia's  tone. 

She  said,  "  My  poor  child  ! "  almost  fondly,  and  then 
Emilia  looked  in  her  face,  murmuring,  "You  sometimef 
doubt  me." 

"Not  your  truth,  but  the  accuracy  of  your  perception 
and  your  knowledge  of  your  real  designs.  You  are  cer- 
tainly deceiving  yourself  at  this  instant.  In  the  first  place, 
the  relation  of  that  madness  —  no,  poor  child,  not  wicked- 
ness—  but  if  you  tell  it  to  him,  it  is  a  wilful  and  unneces- 
sary self-abasement.  If  he  is  to  be  your  husband,  unburden 
your  heart  at  once.  Otherwise,  why?  why?  You  are  but 


414  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

working  up  a  scene,  provoking  needless  excesses :  you  are 
storing  misery  in  retrospect,  or  wretchedness  to  be  endured. 
Had  you  the  habit  of  prayer !  By  degrees  it  will  give  you 
the  thirst  for  purity,  and  that  makes  you  a  fountain  of 
prayer,  in  whom  these  blind  deceits  cannot  hide." 

Georgiana  paused  emphatically ;  as  when,  by  our  unroll- 
ing out  of  our  ideas,  we  have  more  thoroughly  convinced 
ourselves. 

"You  pray  to  heaven,"  said  Emilia,  and  then  faltered, 
and  blushed.  "  I  must  be  loved !  "  she  cried.  "  Will  you 
not  put  your  arms  round  me?" 

Georgiana  drew  her  to  her  bosom,  bidding  her  continue. 
Emilia  lay  whispering  under  her  chin.  "You  pray,  and 
you  wish  to  be  seen  as  you  are,  do  you  not?  You  do. 
Well,  if  you  knew  what  love  is,  you  would  see  it  is  the 
same.  You  wish  him  to  see  and  know  you :  you  wish  to  be 
sure  that  he  loves  nothing  but  exactly  you ;  it  must  be  your- 
self. You  are  jealous  of  his  loving  an  idea  of  you  that  is 
not  you.  You  think,  'He  will  wake  up  and  find  his  mis- 
take; '  or  you  think,  'That  kiss  was  not  intended  for  me;  ' 
not  'for  me  as  I  am.'  Those  are  tortures!  " 

Her  discipline  had  transformed  her,  when  she  could  utter 
such  sentiments  as  these! 

Feeling  her  shudder,  and  not  knowing  how  imagination 
forestalls  experience  in  passionate  blood,  Georgiana  said, 
"  You  speak  like  one  who  has  undergone  them.  But  now 
at  least  you  have  thrown  off  the  mask.  You  love  him  still, 
this  man !  And  with  as  little  strength  of  will !  Do  you  not 
see  impiety  in  the  comparison  you  have  made?" 

"Oh!  what  I  see  is,  that  I  wish  I  could  say  to  him, 
'Look  on  me,  for  I  need  not  be  ashamed  —  I  am  like  Miss 
Ford!'" 

The  young  lady's  cheeks  took  fire,  and  the  clear  path  of 
speech  becoming  confused  in  her  head,  she  said,  "Miss 
Ford?" 

"  Georgiana,"  said  Emilia,  and  feeling  that  her  friend's 
cold  manner  had  melted ;  "  Georgey !  my  beloved !  my  dar- 
ling in  Italy,  where  will  we  go !  I  envy  no  woman  but  you 
who  have  seen  my  dear  ones  fight.  You  and  I,  and  Merthyr ! 
Nothing  but  Austrian  shot  shall  part  us." 

"  And  so  we  make  up  a  pretty  dream ! "  interjected  Geor- 


BETWEEN   EMILIA   AND  OEOROIANA  415 

giana.  "The  Austrian  shot,  I  think,  will  be  fired  by  one 
who  is  now  in  the  Austrian  service,  or  who  will  soon  be," 

"  Wilfrid  ?  "  Emilia  called  out.  "  No ;  that  is  what  I  am 
going  to  stop.  Why  did  I  not  tell  you  so  at  first?  But  I 
never  know  what  I  say  or  do  when  I  am  with  you,  and 
everything  seems  chance.  I  want  to  see  him  to  prevent 
him  from  doing  that.  I  can." 

"  Why  should  you  ?  "  asked  Georgiana ;  and  one  to  whom 
the  faces  of  the  two  had  been  displayed  at  that  moment 
would  have  pronounced  them  a  hostile  couple. 

"Why  should  I  prevent  him?"  Emilia  doled  out  the 
question  slowly,  and  gave  herself  no  further  thought  of 
replying  to  it. 

Apparently  Georgiana  understood  the  significance  of  this 
odd  silence:  she  was  perhaps  touched  by  it.  She  said, 
"  You  feel  that  you  have  a  power  over  him.  You  wish  to 
exercise  it.  Never  mind  wherefore.  If  you  do  —  if  you 
try,  and  succeed  —  if,  by  the  aid  of  this  love  presupposed  to 
exist,  you  win  him  to  what  you  require  of  him  —  do  you 
honestly  think  the  love  is  then  immediately  to  be  dropped  ?  " 

Emilia  meditated.  She  caught  up  her  voice  hastily.  "  I 
think  so.  Yes.  I  hope  so.  I  mean  it  to  be." 

"With  a  noble  lover,  Emilia.  Not  with  a  selfish  one. 
In  showing  him  the  belief  you  have  in  your  power  over  him, 
you  betray  that  he  has  power  over  you.  And  it  is  to  no 
object.  His  family,  his  position,  his  prospects  —  all  tell  you 
that  he  cannot  marry  you  if  he  would.  And  he  is,  besides, 
engaged " 

"  Let  her  suffer ! "    Emilia's  eyes  flashed. 

"Ah ! "  and  Georgiana  thought,  " Have  I  come  upon  your 
nature  at  last  ?  n 

However  it  might  be,  Emilia  was  determined  to  show  it 

"  She  took  my  lover  from  me,  and  I  say,  let  her  suffer !  1 
would  not  hurt  her  myself  —  I  would  not  lay  my  finger  on 
her :  but  she  has  eyes  like  blue  stones,  and  such  a  mouth ! 
—  I  think  the  Austrian  executioner  has  one  like  it  If  she 
suffers,  and  goes  all  dark  as  I  did,  she  will  show  a  better 
face.  Let  her  keep  my  lover.  He  is  not  mine,  but  he  was ; 
and  she  took  him  from  me.  That  woman  cannot  feed  on  him 
as  I  did.  I  know  she  has  no  hunger  for  love.  He  will  look 
at  those  blue  bits  of  ice,  and  think  of  me.  I  told  him  so. 


416  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

Did  I  not  tell  him  that  in  Devon  ?  I  saw  her  eyelids  move 
fast  as  I  spoke.  I  think  I  look  on  Winter  when  I  see  her 
lips.  Poor,  wretched  Wilfrid !  " 

Emilia  half-sobbed  this  exclamation  out.  "  I  don't  wish  to 
hurt  either  of  them,"  she  added,  with  a  smile  of  such  abrupt 
opposition  to  her  words  that  Georgiana  was  in  perplexity.  A 
lady  who  has  assumed  the  office  of  lecturer,  will,  in  such  a 
frame  of  mind,  lecture  on,  if  merely  to  vindicate  to  herself 
her  own  preconceptions.  Georgiana  laid  her  finger  severely 
upon  Wilfrid's  manifest  faults ;  and,  in  fine,  she  spoke  a  great 
deal  of  the  common  sense  that  the  situation  demanded. 
Nevertheless,  Emilia  held  to  her  scheme.  But,  in  the  mean- 
time, Georgiana  had  seen  more  clearly  into  the  girl's  heart ; 
and  she  had  been  won,  also,  by  a  natural  gracefulness  that 
she  now  perceived  in  her,  and  which  led  her  to  think,  "  Is 
Merthyr  again  to  show  me  that  he  never  errs  in  his  judge- 
ment?" An  unaccountable  movement  of  tenderness  to 
Emilia  made  her  drop  a  few  kisses  on  her  forehead.  Emilia 
shut  her  eyes,  waiting  for  more.  Then  she  looked  up,  and 
said,  "  Have  you  felt  this  love  for  me  very  long  ?  "  at  which 
the  puny  name,  scarce  visible,  sprang  up,  and  warmed  to  a 
great  heat. 

"  My  own  Emilia !  Sandra !  listen  to  me  :  promise  me  not 
to  seek  this  interview." 

"  Will  you  always  love  me  as  much  ?  "  Emilia  bargained. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  never  vary.  It  is  my  love  for  you  that  begs 
you." 

Emilia  fell  into  a  chair  and  propped  her  head  behind  both 
hands,  tapping  the  floor  briskly  with  her  feet.  Georgiana 
watched  the  conflict  going  on.  To  decide  it  promptly,  she 
said :  "  And  not  only  shall  I  love  you  thrice  as  well,  but  my 
brother  Merthyr,  whom  you  call  your  friend  —  he  will  —  he 
cannot  love  you  better ;  but  he  will  feel  you  to  be  worthy  the 
best  love  he  can  give.  There  is  a  heart,  you  simple  girl ! 
He  loves  you,  and  has  never  shown  any  of  the  pain  your 
conduct  has  given  him.  When  I  say  he  loves  you,  I  tell  you 
his  one  weakness  —  the  only  one  I  have  discovered.  And 
judge  whether  he  has  shown  want  of  self-control  while  you 
were  dying  for  another.  Did  he  attempt  to  thwart  you  ? 
No ;  to  strengthen  you ;  and  never  once  to  turn  your  atten- 
tion to  himself.  That  is  love.  Now,  think  of  what  anguish 


BETWEEN   EMILIA  AND   QEOBGIAKA  417 

you  have  made  him  pass  through  :  and  think  whether  you 
have  ever  witnessed  an  alteration  of  kindness  in  his  fac« 
toward  you.  Even  now,  when  he  had  the  hope  that  you 
were  cured  of  your  foolish  fruitless  affection  for  a  man  who 
merely  played  with  you,  and  cannot  give  up  the  habit,  even 
now  he  hides  what  he  feels " 

So  far  Emilia  let  her  speak  without  interruption;  but 
gradually  awakening  to  the  meaning  of  the  words : 

"  For  me  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  Yes ;  for  you." 

"  The  same  sort  of  love  as  Wilfrid  feels  ?  " 

"  By  no  means  the  same  sort ;  but  the  love  of  man  fox 
woman." 

"  And  he  saw  me  when  I  was  that  wretched  heap  ?  And 
he  knows  everything !  and  loves  me.  He  has  never  kissed 
me." 

"  Does  that  miserable  test ?  "  Georgiana  was  asking. 

"  Pardon,  pardon,"  said  Emilia  penitently ;  "  I  know  that 
is  almost  nothing,  now.  I  am  not  a  child.  I  spoke  from  a 

sudden  feeling.     For  if  he  loves  me,  how !     Oh,  Mer. 

thyr !  what  a  little  creature  I  seem.  I  cannot  understand 
it.  I  lose  a  brother.  And  he  was  such  a  certainty  to  me. 
What  did  he  love  —  what  did  he  love,  that  night  he  found 
me  on  the  pier  ?  I  looked  like  a  creature  picked  off  a  mud- 
bank.  I  felt  like  a  worm,  and  miserably  abandoned,  I  was 
a  shameful  sight.  Oh !  how  can  I  look  on  Merthyr's  face 
again  ?  " 

In  these  interjections  Georgiana  did  not  observe  the 
proper  humility  and  abject  gratitude  of  a  young  person  who 
had  heard  that  she  was  selected  by  a  prince  of  the  earth. 
A  sort  of  '  Eastern  handmaid '  prostration,  with  joined  bands, 
and,  above  all  things,  a  closed  mouth,  the  lady  desired. 
She  half  regretted  the  revelation  she  had  made ;  and  to  be 
sure  at  once  that  she  had  reaped  some  practical  good,  she 
said  :  "  I  need  scarce  ask  you  whether  you  have  come  to  a 
right  decision  upon  that  other  question." 

"  To  see  Wilfrid  ?  "  said  Emilia.  She  appeared  to  pause 
musingly,  and  then  turned  to  Georgiana,  showing  happy 
features ;  "  Yes :  I  shall  see  him.  I  must  see  him.  Let 
him  know  he  is  to  come  immediately." 

"  That  is  your  decision." 


418  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"Yes." 

"  After  what  I  have  told  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  yes  !    Write  the  letter." 

Georgiana  chid  at  an  internal  wrath  that  struggled  to  win 
her  lips.  "  Promise  me  simply  that  what  I  have  told  you  of 
my  brother,  you  will  consider  yourself  bound  to  keep  secret. 
You  will  not  speak  of  it  to  others,  nor  to  him." 

Emilia  gave  the  promise,  but  with  the  thought ;  "  To  him  ? 

—  will  not  he  speak  of  it  ?  " 

"  So,  then,  I  am  to  write  this  letter  ?  "  said  Georgiana. 

"  Do,  do ;  at  once ! "  Emilia  put  on  her  sweetest  look  to 
plead  for  it. 

"Decidedly  the  wisest  of  men  are  fools  in  this  matter," 
Georgiana's  reflection  swam  upon  her  anger. 

"  And  dearest !  my  Georgey ! "  Emilia  insisted  on  being 
blunt  to  the  outward  indications  to  which  she  was  commonly 
so  sensitive  and  reflective  ;  "  my  Georgey !  let  me  be  alone 
this  evening  in  my  bedroom.  The  little  Madre  comes,  and 

—  and  I  haven't  the  habit  of  being  respectful  to  her.     And, 
I  must  be  alone !    Do  not  send  up  for  me,  whoever  wishes 
it." 

Georgiana  could  not  stop  her  tongue :  "  Not  if  Mr.  Wil- 
frid Pole ?" 

" Oh,  he !  I  will  see  him"  said  Emilia ;  and  Georgiana 
went  from  her  straightway. 


CHAPTER  L 

EMILIA   BEGINS   TO   FEEL   MERTHYR*S   POWER 

EMILIA  remained  locked  up  with  her  mother  all  that 
evening.  The  good  little  shrill  woman,  tender-eyed  and 
slatternly,  had  to  help  try  on  dresses,  and  run  about  for 
pins,  and  express  her  critical  taste  in  undertones,  believing 
all  the  while  that  her  daughter  had  given  up  music  to  go 
mad  with  vanity.  The  reflection  struck  her,  notwithstand- 
ing, that  it  was  a  wiser  thing  for  one  of  her  sex  to  make 
friends  among  rich  people  than  to  marry  a  foreign  husband. 


EMILIA   BEGINS  TO   FEEL  MBRTHYR'8   POWER    419 

The  girl  looked  a  brilliant  woman  in  a  superb  Venetian 
dress  of  purple  velvet,  which  she  called  'the  Branciani 
dress,'  and  once  attired  in  it,  and  the  rich  purfles  and  swell- 
ing creases  over  the  shoulders  puffed  out  to  her  satisfaction, 
and  the  run  of  yellow  braid  about  it  properly  inspected  and 
flattened,  she  would  not  return  to  her  more  homely  wear, 
though  very  soon  her  mother  began  to  whimper  and  say  that 
she  had  lost  her  so  long,  and  now  that  she  had  found  her  it 
hardly  seemed  the  same  child.  Emilia  would  listen  to  no 
entreaties  to  put  away  her  sumptuous  robe.  She  silenced 
her  mother  with  a  stamp  of  her  foot,  and  then  sighed: 
"  Ah !  Why  do  I  always  feel  such  a  tyrant  with  you  ?  " 
kissing  her. 

"This  dress,"  she  said,  and  held  up  her  mother's  chin 
fondlingly  between  her  two  hands,  "  this  dress  was  designed 
by  my  friend  Merthyr  —  that  is,  Mr.  Powy s  —  from  what 
he  remembered  of  a  dress  worn  by  Countess  Branciani,  of 
Venice.  He  had  it  made  to  give  to  me.  It  came  from 
Paris.  Countess  Branciani  was  one  of  his  dearest  friends. 
I  feel  that  I  am  twice  as  much  his  friend  with  this  on  me. 
Mother,  it  seems  like  a  deep  blush  all  over  me.  I  feel  as  if 
I  looked  out  of  a  rose." 

She  spread  her  hands  to  express  the  flower  magnified. 

"  Oh !  what  silly  talk,"  said  her  mother :  "  it  doe*  turn 
your  head,  this  dress  does ! " 

"  I  wish  it  would  give  me  my  voice,  mother.  My  father 
has  no  hope.  I  wish  he  would  send  me  news  to  make  me 
happy  about  him  ;  or  come  and  run  his  finger  up  the  strings 
for  hours,  as  he  used  to.  I  have  fancied  I  heard  him  at 
times,  and  I  had  a  longing  to  follow  the  notes,  and  felt  sur« 
of  my  semi-tones.  He  won't  see  me!  Mother!  he  would 
think  something  of  me  if  he  saw  me  now  ! " 

Her  mother's  lamentations  reached  that  vocal  pitch  at 
last  which  Emilia  could  not  endure,  and  the  little  lady  was 
despatched  to  her  home  under  charge  of  a  servant 

Emilia  feasted  on  the  looking-glass  when  alone. 
Merthyr,  in  restoring  her  to  health,  given  her  an  overdoae 
of  the  poison  ? 

"Countess   Branciani  made  the  Austrian  Governor  n< 
slave,"  she  uttered,  planting  one  foot  upon  a  stool  to  lend 
herself  height     "  He  told  her  who  were  suspected,  and  who 


420  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

would  be  imprisoned,  and  gave  her  all  the  State  secrets. 
Beauty  can  do  more  than  music.  I  wonder  whether  Merthyr 
loved  her  ?  He  loves  me ! " 

Emilia  was  smitten  with  a  fear  that  he  would  speak  of  it 
when  she  next  saw  him.  "  Oh !  I  hope  he  will  be  just  the 
same  as  he  has  been,"  she  sighed ;  and  with  much  melan- 
choly shook  her  head  at  her  fair  reflection,  and  began  to 
undress.  It  had  not  struck  her  with  surprise  that  two  men 
should  be  loving  her,  until,  standing  away  from  the  purple 
folds,  she  seemed  to  grow  smaller  and  smaller,  as  a  fire-log 
robbed  of  its  flame,  and  felt  insufficient  and  weak.  This 
was  a  new  sensation.  She  depended  no  more  on  her  own 
vital  sincerity.  It  was  in  her  nature,  doubtless,  to  crave 
constantly  for  approval,  but  in  the  service  of  personal  beauty 
instead  of  divine  Art,  she  found  herself  utterly  unwound 
without  it :  victim  of  a  sense  of  most  uncomfortable  hollow- 
ness.  She  was  glad  to  extinguish  the  candle  and  be  covered 
up  dark  in  the  circle  of  her  warmth.  Then  her  young  blood 
sang  to  her  again. 

An  hour  before  breakfast  every  morning  she  read  with 
Merthyr.  Now,  this  morning  how  was  she  to  appear  to 
him  ?  There  would  be  no  reading,  of  course.  How  could 
he  think  of  teaching  one  to  whom  he  trembled.  Emilia 
trusted  that  she  might  see  no  change  in  him,  and,  above  all, 
that  he  would  not  speak  of  his  love  for  her.  Nevertheless, 
she  put  on  her  robe  of  conquest,  having  first  rejected  with 
distaste  a  plainer  garb.  She  went  down  the  stairs  slowly. 
Merthyr  was  in  the  library  awaiting  her.  "  You  are  late," 
he  said,  eyeing  the  dress  as  a  thing  apart  from  her,  and 
remarking  that  it  was  hardly  suited  for  morning  wear. 
"Yellow,  if  you  must  have  a  strong  colour,  and  you 
wouldn't  exhibit  the  schwartz-gelb  of  the  Tedeschi  will- 
ingly. But  now ! " 

This  was  the  signal  for  the  reading  to  commence. 

"  Wilfrid  would  not  have  been  so  cold  to  me,"  thought 
Emilia,  turning  the  leaves  of  Ariosto  as  a  book  of  ashes. 
Not  a  word  of  love  appeared  to  be  in  his  mind.  This  she 
did  not  regret ;  but  she  thirsted  for  the  assuring  look.  His 
eyes  were  quietly  friendly.  So  friendly  was  he,  that  he 
blamed  her  for  inattention,  and  took  her  once  to  task  about 
a  melodious  accent  in  which  she  vulgarized  the  vowels.  All 


EMILIA  BEGINS  TO  FEEL  MEBTHYB's   POWER    421 

the  flattery  of  the  Branciani  dress  could  not  keep  Emilia 
from  her  feeling  of  smallness.  Was  it  possible  that  he 
loved  her  ?  She  watched  him  as  eagerly  as  her  shyness 
would  permit.  Any  shadow  of  a  change  was  spied  for. 
Getting  no  softness  from  him,  or  superadded  kindness,  no 
shadow  of  a  change  in  that  direction,  she  stumbled  in  her 
reading  purposely,  to  draw  down  rebuke;  her  construing 
was  villanously  bad.  He  told  her  so,  and  she  replied :  "  I 
don't  like  poetry."  But  seeing  him  exchange  Ariosto  for 
Koman  History,  she  murmured,  "  I  like  Dante."  Merthyr 
plunged  her  remorselessly  into  the  second  Punic  war. 

But  there  was  worse  to  follow.  She  was  informed  that 
after  breakfast  she  would  be  called  upon  to  repeat  the 
principal  facts  she  had  been  reading  of.  Emilia  groaned 
audibly. 

"Take  the  book,"  said  Merthyr. 
"  It's  so  heavy,"  she  complained. 
"Heavy?" 

"  I  mean,  to  carry  about." 

" If  you  want  to  'carry  it  about,'  the  boy  shall  follow  you 
with  it." 

She  understood  that  she  was  being  laughed  at.     Languor, 
coupled  with  the  consciousness  of  ridicule,  overwhelmed  her. 
"  I  feel  I  can't  learn,"  she  said. 
"  Feel,  that  you  must,"  was  replied  to  her. 
"  No ;  don't  take  any  more  trouble  with  me ! " 
"Yes;  I  expect  you  to  distinguish  Scipio  from  Cicero, 
and  not  make  the  mistake  of  the  other  evening,  when  you 
were  talking  to  Mrs.  Cameron." 

Emilia  left  him,  abashed,  to  dread  shrewdly  their  meeting 
within  five  minutes  at  the  breakfast-table ;  to  dread  eating 
under  his  eyes,  with  doubts  of  the  character  of  her  acts  gen- 
erally. She  was,  indeed,  his  humble  scholar,  though  she 
seemed  so  full  of  weariness  and  revolt.  He,  however,  when 
alone,  looked  fixedly  at  the  door  through  which  she  had 
passed,  and  said,  "  She  loves  that  man  still.  Similar  ages, 
similar  tastes,  I  suppose!  She  is  dressed  to  be  ready  for 
him.  She  can't  learn:  she  can  do  nothing.  My  work 
mayn't  be  lost,  but  it's  lost  for  me." 

Merthyr  did  not  know  that  Georgiana  had  betrayed  him, 
but  in  no  case  would  he  have  given  Emilia  the  signs  she 


422  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

expected :  in  the  first  place,  because  he  had  self-command  •, 
and,  secondly,  because  of  those  years  he  counted  in  advance 
of  her.  So  she  had  the  full  mystery  of  his  loving  her  to 
think  over,  without  a  spot  of  the  weakness  to  fasten  on. 

Georgiana's  first  sight  of  Emilia  in  her  Branciani  dress 
shut  her  heart  against  the  girl  with  iron  clasps.  She  took 
occasion  to  remark,  "  We  need  not  expect  visitors  so  very 
early ;  "  but  the  offender  was  impervious.  Breakfast  fin- 
ished, the  reading  with  Merthyr  recommenced,  when  Emilia, 
having  got  over  her  surprise  at  the  sameness  of  things  this 
day,  acquitted  herself  better,  and  even  declaimed  the  verses 
musically.  Seeing  him  look  pleased,  she  spoke  them  out 
sonorously.  Merthyr  applauded.  Upon  which  Emilia  said, 
with  odd  abruptness  and  solemnity,  "  Will  he  come  to-day  ?  " 
It  was  beyond  Merthyr's  power  of  self-control  to  consent  to  be 
taken  into  a  consultation  on  this  matter,  and  he  attempted  to 
put  it  aside.  "  He  may  or  he  may  not — probably  to-morrow." 

"  No ;  to-day,  in  the  afternoon,"  said  Emilia, "  be  near  me." 

"  I  have  engagements." 

"  Some  word,  say,  that  will  seem  to  be  you  with  me." 

"  Some  flattery,  or  you  won't  remember  it." 

"Yes,  I  like  flattery." 

"Well,  you  look  like  Countess  Branciani  when,  after 
thinking  her  husband  the  basest  of  men,  she  discovered 
him  to  be  the  noblest." 

Emilia  blushed.  "  That's  not  easily  forgotten !  But  she 
must  have  looked  braver,  bolder,  not  so  under  a  burden  as  I 
feel." 

"  The  comparison  was  meant  to  suit  the  moment  of  your 
reciting." 

"Yes,"  said  Emilia,  half-mournfully,  "then  'myself 
doesn't  sit  on  my  shoulders :  I  don't  even  care  what  I  am." 

"  That  is  what  Art  does  for  you." 

"  Only  by  fits  and  starts  now.  Once  I  never  thought  of 
myself." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  street-door,  and  she  changed 
countenance.  Presently  there  came  a  gentle  tap  at  their 
own  door. 

"  It  is  that  woman,"  said  Emilia. 

"  I  fancy  it  must  be  Lady  Charlotte.  You  will  not  see 
her?" 


EMILIA   BEGINS  TO  FEEL  MEKTHYR'8   POWEB    428 

Merthyr  was  anticipating  a  negative,  but  Emilia  said, 
"  Let  her  come  in." 

She  gave  her  hand  to  the  lady,  and  was  the  less  concerned 
of  the  two.  Lady  Charlotte  turned  away  from  her  briskly. 

"Georgey  didn't  say  anything  of  you  in  her  letter, 
Merthyr ;  I  am  going  up  to  her,  but  I  wished  to  satisfy  my- 
self that  you  were  in  town,  first :  —  to  save  half-a-minute,  you 
see !  I  anticipate  the  philosophic  manly  sneer.  Is  it  really 
true  that  you  are  going  to  mix  yourself  up  in  this  mad  Italian 
business  again  ?  Now  that  you're  a  man,  my  dear  Merthyr, 
it  seems  almost  inexcuseable  —  for  a  sensible  Englishman !  " 

Lady  Charlotte  laughed,  giving  him  her  hand  at  the  same 
time. 

"  Don't  you  know  I  swore  an  oath  ?  "  Merthyr  caught  up 
her  tone. 

"  Yes,  but  you  never  succeed.  I  complain  that  you  never 
succeed.  Of  what  use  on  earth  are  all  your  efforts  if  you 
never  succeed  ?  " 

Emilia's  voice  burst  out :  — 

"  '  Piacemi  almen  che  i  miei  sospir  sien  quail 
Spera  '1  Tevero  e  1'  Arno, 
E  'IPo, '" 

Merthyr  continued  the  ode,  acting  a  similar  fervour:  — 

"  '  Ben  pro  wide  Nature  al  nostro  stato 
Quando  dell*  Alpi  schermo 
Pose  fra  noi  e  la  tedesca  rabbia.' 

"  We  are  merely  bondsmen  to  the  re-establishment  of  the 
provisions  of  nature." 

"  And  we  know  we  shaM  succeed ! "  said  Emilia,  permit- 
ting her  antagonism  to  pass  forth  in  irritable  emphasis. 

Lady  Charlotte  quickly  left  them,  to  run  up  to  Georgian*. 
She  was  not  long  in  the  house.    Emilia  hung  near  Merthyr 
all  day,  and  she  was  near  him  when  the  knock  was  heard 
which  she  could  suppose  to  be  Wilfrid's,  as  it  proved.    \\  i 
frid  was  ushered  in  to  Georgians    Delicacy  had  P™*"*" 
Merthyr  from   taking   special   notice   to  Emilia  of   Lady 
Charlotte's  visit,  and  he  treated  Wilfrid's  similarly,  saying, 
"  Georgey  will  send  down  word." 


424  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"  Only,  don't  leave  me  till  she  does,"  Emilia  rejoined. 
Her  agitation  laid  her  open  to  be  misinterpreted.  It  was 
increased  when  she  saw  him  take  a  book  and  sit  in  the  arm- 
chair between  two  lighted  candles,  calmly  careless  of  her. 
She  did  not  actually  define  to  herself  that  he  should  feel 
jealously,  but  his  indifference  was  one  extreme  which  pro- 
voked her  instinct  to  imagine  a  necessity  for  the  other. 
Word  came  from  Georgiana,  and  Emilia  moved  to  the  door. 
"  Remember,  we  dine  half-an-hour  earlier  to-day,  on  account 
of  the  Cameron  party,"  was  all  that  he  uttered.  Emilia  made 
an  effort  to  go.  She  felt  herself  as  a  ship  sailing  into  peril- 
ous waters,  without  compass.  Why  did  he  not  speak  ten- 
derly ?  Before  Georgiana  had  revealed  his  love  for  her,  she 
had  been  strong  to  see  Wilfrid.  Now,  the  idea  smote  her 
softened  heart  that  Wilfrid's  passion  might  engulf  her  if 
she  had  no  word  of  sustainment  from  Merthyr.  She  turned 
and  flung  herself  at  his  feet,  murmuring,  "  Say  something  to 
me."  Merthyr  divined  this  emotion  to  be  a  sort  of  foresight 
of  remorse  on  her  part :  he  clasped  the  interwoven  fingers  of 
her  hands,  letting  his  eyes  dwell  upon  hers.  The  marvel  of 
their  not  wavering  or  softening  meaningly  kept  her  speech- 
less. She  rose  with  a  strength  not  her  own :  not  comforted, 
and  no  longer  speculating.  It  was  as  if  she  had  been 
eyeing  a  golden  door  shut  fast,  that  might  some  day  open, 
but  was  in  itself  precious  to  behold.  She  arose  with  deep 
humbleness,  which  awakened  new  ideas  of  the  nature  of 
vorth  in  her  bosom.  She  felt  herself  so  low  before  this 
man  who  would  not  be  played  upon  as  an  obsequious  instru- 
ment —  who  would  not  leap  into  ardour  for  her  beauty ! 
Before  that  man  upstairs  how  would  she  feel  ?  The  ques- 
tion did  not  come  to  her.  She  entered  the  room  where  he 
was,  without  a  blush.  Her  step  was  firm,  and  her  face  ex- 
pressed a  quiet  gladness.  Georgiana  stayed  through  the  first 
commonplaces :  then  they  were  alone. 


INTERRUPTED  BY  THE  PHILOSOPHER  426 

CHAPTER  LI 

A   CHAPTER   INTERRUPTED    BY   THE   PHILOSOPHER 

COMMONPLACES  continued  to  be  Wilfrid's  refuge,  for  senti- 
ment was  surging  mightily  within  him.  The  commonplaces 
concerning  father,  sisters,  health,  weather,  sickened  him 
when  uttered,  so  much  that  for  a  time  he  was  unobservant 
of  Emilia's  ready  exchange  of  them.  To  a  compliment  on 
her  appearance,  she  said :  "  You  like  this  dress  ?  I  will  tell 
you  the  history  of  it.  I  call  it  the  Branciani  dress.  Mr. 
Powys  designed  it  for  me.  The  Countess  Branciani  was  his 
friend.  She  used  always  to  dress  in  this  colour ;  just  in  this 
style.  She  also  was  dark.  And  she  imagined  that  her 
husband  favoured  the  Austrians.  She  believed  he  was 
an  Austrian  spy.  It  was  impossible  for  her  not  to  hate 
him " 

"  Her  husband ! "  quoth  Wilfrid.  The  unexpected  rich- 
ness that  had  come  upon  her  beauty  and  the  coolness 
of  her  prattle  at  such  an  interview  amazed  and  mortified 
him. 

"  She  supposed  him  to  be  an  Austrian  spy ! " 

"  Still  he  was  her  husband ! " 

Emilia  gave  her  features  a  moment's  play,  but  she  had  not 
full  command  of  them,  and  the  spark  of  scorn  they  emitted 
was  very  slight. 

"  Ah !  "  his  tone  had  fallen  into  a  depth,  "  how  I  thank  you 
for  the  honour  you  have  done  me  in  desiring  to  see  me  once 
before  you  leave  England !  I  know  that  I  have  not  merited 
it." 

More  he  said  on  this  theme,  blaming  himself  emphati- 
cally, until,  startled  by  the  commonplaces  he  was  uttering, 
he  stopped  short ;  and  the  stopping  was  effective,  if  the 
speech  was  not.     Where  was  the  tongue  of  his  passion' 
He  almost  asked  it  of  himself.     Where  was  Hippogrifl 
He  who  had  burned  to  see  her,  he  saw  her  now,  fair  as  a 
vision,  and  yet  in  the  flesh!    Why  was  he  as  good  as 
tongue-tied  in  her  presence  when  he  had  such  fires  to  pour 
forth? 


426  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

(Presuming  that  he  has  not  previously  explained  it,  the 
Philosopher  here  observes  that  Hippogriff,  the  foal  of  Fiery 
Circumstance  out  of  Sentiment,  must  be  subject  to  strong 
sentimental  friction  before  he  is  capable  of  a  flight:  his 
appetites  must  fast  long  in  the  very  eye  of  provocation  ere 
he  shall  be  eloquent.  Let  him,  the  Philosopher,  repeat  at 
the  same  time  that  souls  harmonious  to  Nature,  of  whom 
there  are  few,  do  not  mount  this  animal.  Those  who  have 
true  passion  are  not  at  the  mercy  of  Hippogriff  —  other- 
wise Sur-excited  Sentiment.  You  will  mark  in  them  con- 
stantly a  reverence  for  the  laws  of  their  being,  and  a  natural 
obedience  to  common  sense.  They  are  subject  to  storm,  as 
in  everything  earthly,  and  they  need  no  lesson  of  devotion; 
but  they  never  move  to  an  object  in  a  madness.) 

Now  this  is  good  teaching :  it  is  indeed  my  Philoso- 
pher's object — his  purpose  —  to  work  out  this  distinction; 
and  all  I  wish  is  that  it  were  good  for  my  market.  What 
the  Philosopher  means,  is  to  plant  in  the  reader's  path  a 
staring  contrast  between  my  pet  Emilia  and  his  puppet 
Wilfrid.  It  would  be  very  commendable  and  serviceable 
if  a  novel  were  what  he  thinks  it:  but  all  attestation 
favours  the  critical  dictum,  that  a  novel  is  to  give  us  copi- 
ous sugar  and  no  cane.  I,  myself,  as  a  reader,  consider  con- 
comitant cane  an  adulteration  of  the  qualities  of  sugar. 
My  Philosopher's  error  is  to  deem  the  sugar,  born  of  the 
cane,  inseparable  from  it.  The  which  is  naturally  resented, 
and  away  flies  my  book  back  at  the  heads  of  the  librarians, 
hitting  me  behind  them  a  far  more  grievous  blow. 

Such  is  the  construction  of  my  story,  however,  that  to 
entirely  deny  the  Philosopher  the  privilege  he  stipulated 
for  when  with  his  assistance  I  conceived  it,  would  render 
our  performance  unintelligible  to  that  acute  and  honourable 
minority  which  consents  to  be  thwacked  with  aphorisms 
and  sentences  and  a  fantastic  delivery  of  the  verities. 
While  my  Play  goes  on,  I  must  permit  him  to  come  forward 
occasionally.  We  are  indeed  in  a  sort  of  partnership,  and 
it  is  useless  for  me  to  tell  him  that  he  is  not  popular  and 
destroys  my  chance. 


A  FRESH  DUETT  BETWEEN  WILFRID  AND  EMILIA 

CHAPTER  LII 

A   FRESH    DUETT   BETWEEN   WILFEID   AND   EMILIA 

"  DON'T  blame  yourself,  my  Wilfrid." 

Emilia  spoke  thus,  full  of  pity  for  him,  and  in  her 
adorable,  deep-fluted  tones,  after  the  effective  stop  he  had 
come  to. 

The  '  my  Wilfrid '  made  the  owner  of  the  name  quiver 
with  satisfaction.  He  breathed :  "  You  have  forgiven  me  ?  " 

"That  I  have.  And  there  was  indeed  no  blame.  My 
voice  has  gone.  Yes,  but  I  do  not  think  it  your  fault" 

"  It  was !  it  is !  "  groaned  Wilfrid.  "  But,  has  your  voice 
gone  ?  "  He  leaned  nearer  to  her,  drawing  largely  on  the 
claim  his  incredulity  had  to  inspect  her  sweet  features  accu- 
rately. "You  speak  just  as  —  more  deliciously  than  ever! 
I  can't  think  you  have  lost  it.  Ah !  forgive  me !  forgive  me ! " 

Emilia  was  about  to  put  her  hand  over  to  him,  but  the 
prompt  impulse  was  checked  by  a  simultaneous  feminine 
warning  within.  She  smiled,  saying :  " '  I  forgive '  seems 
such  a  strange  thing  for  me  to  say ; "  and  to  convey  any 
further  meaning  that  might  comfort  him,  better  than  words 
could  do,  she  held  on  her  smile.  The  smile  was  of  the  ac- 
ceptedly  feigned,  conventional  character;  a  polished  sur- 
face :  belonging  to  the  passage  of  the  discourse,  and  not 
to  the  emotions.  Wilfrid's  swelling  passion  slipped  on  it 
Sensitively  he  discerned  an  ease  in  its  formation  and  dis- 
appearance that  shot  a  first  doubt  through  him,  whether  he 
really  maintained  his  empire  in  her  heart  If  he  did  not 
reign  there,  why  had  she  sent  for  him  ?  He  attributed  the 
unheated  smile  to  a  defect  in  her  manner,  that  was  always 
chargeable  with  something,  as  he  remembered.  He  began 
systematically  to  account  for  his  acts :  but  the  man  was  so 
constituted  that  as  he  laid  them  out  for  pardon,  he  himself 
condemned  them  most ;  and  looking  bact  at  his  weakness 
and  double  play,  he  broke  through  his  phrases  to  cry  with- 
out premeditation :  "  Can  you  have  loved  me  then  ?  " 

Emilia's  cheeks  tingled:  "Don't  speak  of  that  night  in 
Devon,"  she  replied. 


428  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"Ah!"  sighed  he.  "I  did  not  mean  then.  Then  you 
must  have  hated  me." 

"No;  for,  what  did  I  say?  I  said  that  you  would  come 
to  me  —  nothing  more.  I  hated  that  woman.  You?  Oh, 
no!" 

"  You  loved  me,  then?  " 

"  Did  I  not  offer  to  work  for  you,  if  you  were  poor?  And 
—  I  can't  remember  what  I  said.  Please,  do  not  speak  of 
that  night." 

"Emilia!  as  a  man  of  honour,  I  was  bound " 

She  lifted  her  hands:  "Oh!  be  silent,  and  let  that  night 
die." 

"  I  may  speak  of  that  night  when  you  drove  home  from 

Penarvon  Castle,  and  a  robber ?  You  have  forgotten 

him,  perhaps!  What  did  he  steal?  not  what  he  came  for, 
but  something  dearer  to  him  than  anything  he  possesses. 

How  can  I  say ?  Dear  to  me?  If  it  were  dipped  in 

my  heart's  blood! " 

Emilia  was  far  from  being  carried  away  by  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  scene ;  but  remembering  what  her  emotion  had 
then  been,  she  wondered  at  her  coolness  now. 

"  I  may  speak  of  Wilming  Weir?  "  he  insinuated. 

Her  bosom  rose  softly  and  heavily.  As  if  throwing  off 
some  cloak  of  enchantment  that  clogged  her  spirit !  "  I  was 
telling  you  of  this  dress,"  she  said:  "I  mean,  of  Countess 
Branciani.  She  thought  her  husband  was  the  Austrian  spy 
who  had  betrayed  them,  and  she  said,  'He  is  not  worthy  to 
live/  Everybody  knew  that  she  had  loved  him.  I  have 
seen  his  portrait  and  hers.  I  never  saw  faces  that  looked 
so  fond  of  life.  She  had  that  Italian  beauty  which  is  to 
any  other  like  the  difference  between  velvet  and  silk." 

"  Oh !  do  I  require  to  be  told  the  difference?  "  Wilfrid's 
heart  throbbed. 

"She,"  pursued  Emilia,  "she  loved  him  still,  I  believe, 
but  her  country  was  her  religion.  There  was  known  to  be 
a  great  conspiracy,  and  no  one  knew  the  leader  of  it.  All 
true  Italians  trusted  Countess  Branciani,  though  she  visited 
the  Austrian  Governor's  house  —  a  General  with  some  name 
on  the  teeth.  One  night  she  said  to  him,  'You  have  a  spy 
who  betrays  you.'  The  General  never  suspected  Countess 
Branciani.  Women  are  devils  of  cleverness  sometimes. 


A  FRESH  DUETT  BETWEEN  WILFRID  AND  EMILIA      429 

But  he  did  suspect  it  must  be  her  husband  —  thinking,  I 
suppose,  'How  otherwise  would  she  have  known  he  was  my 
spy? '  He  gave  Count  Branciani  secret  work  and  high  pay 
Then  he  set  a  watch  on  him.  Count  Branciani  was  to  find 
out  who  was  this  unknown  leader.  He  said  to  the  Austrian 
Governor,  'You  shall  know  him  in  ten  days.*  This  was 
repeated  to  Countess  Branciani,  and  she  said  to  herself, 
'My  husband!  you  shall  perish,  though  I  should  have  to 
stab  you  myself. ' ' 

Emilia's  sympathetic  hand  twitched.  Wilfrid's  seized 
it,  but  it  proved  no  soft  melting  prize.  She  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  continue.  He  entreated  her  to.  Thereat  she 
pulled  gently  for  her  hand,  and  persisting,  it  was  grudg. 
ingly  let  go. 

"  One  night  Countess  Branciani  put  the  Austrians  on  her 
husband's  track.  He  knew  that  she  was  true  to  her  coun- 
try, and  had  no  fear  of  her,  whether  she  touched  the  Black- 
yellow  gold  or  not.  But  he  did  not  confide  any  of  his 
projects  to  her.  And  his  reason  was,  that  as  she  went  to 
the  Governor's,  she  might  accidentally,  by  a  word  or  a  sign, 
show  that  she  was  an  accomplice  in  the  conspiracy.  He 
wished  to  save  her  from  a  suspicion.  Brave  Branciani !  " 

Emilia  had  a  little  shudder  of  excitement. 

"Only,"  she  added,  "why  will  men  always  think  women 
are  so  weak?  The  Count  worked  with  conspirators  who 
were  not  dreaming  they  would  do  anything,  but  were  plot- 
ting to  do  it.  The  Countess  belonged  to  the  other  party  — 
men  who  never  thought  they  were  strong  enough  to  see 
their  ideas  acting  —  I  mean,  not  bold  enough  to  take  their 
chance.  As  if  we  die  more  than  one  death,  and  the  blood 
we  spill  for  Italy  is  ever  wasted!  That  night  the  Austrian 
spy  followed  the  Count  to  the  meeting-house  of  the  conspir- 
ators. It  was  thought  quite  natural  that  the  Count  should 
go  there.  But  the  spy,  not  having  the  password,  crouched 
outside,  and  heard  from  two  that  came  out  muttering,  the 
next  appointment  for  a  meeting.  This  was  told  to  Count- 
ess Branciani,  and  in  the  meantime  she  heard  from  the  Aus- 
trian Governor  that  her  husband  had  given  in  names  of  the 
conspirators.  She  determined  at  once.  Now  may  Christ 
and  the  Virgin  help  me  ! " 

Emilia  struck  her  knees,  while  tears  started  through  her 


430  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

shut  eyelids.  The  exclamation  must  have  been  caught  from 
her  father,  who  liked  not  the  priests  of  his  native  land  well 
enough  to  interfere  between  his  English  wife  and  their  child 
in  such  a  matter  as  religious  training. 

"  What  happened  ? "  said  Wilfrid,  vainly  seeking  for  a 
personal  application  in  this  narrative. 

"  Listen !  —  Ah  ! "  she  fought  with  her  tears,  and  said,  as 
they  rolled  down  her  face :  "  For  a  miserable  thing  one  can- 
not help,  I  find  I  must  cry.  This  is  what  she  did.  She 
told  him  she  knew  of  the  conspiracy,  and  asked  permission 
to  join  it,  swearing  that  she  was  true  to  Italy.  He  said  he 
believed  her.  — Oh,  heaven!  —  And  for  some  time  she  had 
to  beg  and  beg;  but  to  spare  her  he  would  not  let  her  join. 
I  cannot  tell  why  —  he  gave  her  the  password  for  the  next 
meeting,  and  said  that  an  old  gold  coin  must  be  shown. 
She  must  have  coaxed  it,  though  he  was  a  strong  man,  who 
could  resist  women.  I  suppose  he  felt  that  he  had  been 
unkind.  —  Were  I  Queen  of  Italy  he  should  stand  for  ever 
in  a  statue  of  gold  !  —  The  next  appointed  night  a  spy  en- 
tered among  the  conspirators,  with  the  password  and  the 
coin.  Did  I  tell  you  the  Countess  had  one  child  —  a  girl ! 
She  lives  now,  and  I  am  to  know  her.  She  is  like  her 
mother.  That  little  girl  was  playing  down  the  stairs  with 
her  nurse  when  a  band  of  Austrian  soldiers  entered  the  hall 
underneath,  and  an  officer,  with  his  sword  drawn,  and  some 
men,  came  marching  up  in  their  stiff  way — the  machines! 
This  officer  stooped  to  her,  and  before  the  nurse  could  stop 
her,  made  her  say  where  her  father  was.  Those  Austrians 
make  children  betray  their  parents !  They  don't  think  how 
we  grow  up  to  detest  them.  Do  I  ?  Hate  is  not  the  word : 
it  burns  so  hot  and  steady  with  me.  The  Countess  came 
out  on  the  first  landing;  she  saw  what  was  happening. 
When  her  husband  was  led  out,  she  asked  permission  to 
embrace  him.  The  officer  consented,  but  she  had  to  say  to 
him,  '  Move  back,'  and  then,  with  her  lips  to  her  husband's 
cheek,  (  Betray  no  more  of  them ! '  she  whispered.  Count 
Branciani  started.  Now  he  understood  what  she  had  done, 
and  why  she  had  done  it.  *  Ask  for  the  charge  that  makes 
me  a  prisoner,'  he  said.  Her  husband's  noble  face  gave  her 
a  chill  of  alarm.  The  Austrian  spoke.  '  He  is  accused  of 
being  the  chief  of  the  Sequin  Club.'  And  then  the  Countess 


A  FRESH   DUETT  BETWEEN  WILFRID  AND   EMILIA      481 

looked  at  her  husband;  she  sank  at  his  feet.  My  heart 
breaks.  Wilfrid!  Wilfrid!  You  will  not  wear  that  uni- 
form ?  Say  — '  Never,  never ! '  You  will  not  go  to  the 
Austrian  army  —  Wilfrid?  Would  you  be  my  enemy? 
Brutes,  knee-deep  in  blood!  with  bloody  fingers!  Ogres! 
Would  you  be  one  of  them  ?  To  see  me  turn  my  head  shiv- 
ering with  loathing  as  you  pass  ?  This  is  why  I  sent  for 
you,  because  I  loved  you,  to  entreat  you,  Wilfnd,  from  my 
soul,  not  to  blacken  the  dear  happy  days  when  I  knew  you ! 
Will  you  hear  me  ?  That  woman  is  changeing  you  —  doing 
all  this.  Resist  her!  Think  of  me  in  this  one  thing! 
Promise  it,  and  I  will  go  at  once,  and  want  no  more.  I  will 
swear  never  to  trouble  you.  Oh,  Wilfrid !  it's  not  so  much 
our  being  enemies,  but  what  you  become,  I  think  of.  If  I 
say  to  myself,  'He  also,  who  was  once  my  lover  —  Oh !  paid 
murderer  of  my  dear  people ! ' ' 

Emilia  threw  up  both  hands  to  her  eyes :  but  Wilfrid,  all 
on  fire  with  a  word,  made  one  of  her  hands  his  own,  repeat- 
ing eagerly :  "  Once  ?  once  ?  " 

"  Once  ?  "  she  echoed  him. 

"'Once  my  love?'"   said  he.     "Not  now? — does  it 
mean, '  not  now  ? '    My  darling !  —  pardon  me,  I  must  say  it 
My  beloved!  you  said:  'He  who  was  once  my  lover :'- 
you  said  that.     What  does  it  mean  ?    Not  that — not  — 
does  it  mean,  all's  over?    Why  did  you  bring  me  here? 
You  know  I  must  love  you  for  ever.     Speak !    '  Once  ? ' 

"'Once?'"  Emilia  was  breathing  quick,  but  her  voice 
was  well  contained:  "Yes,  I  said  'once.'  You  were  then." 

"  Till  that  night  in  Devon  ?  " 

"  Let  it  be." 

"  But  you  love  me  still  ?  " 

"  We  won't  speak  of  it." 

"I  see!    You  cannot  forgive.    Good  heavens!    I 
I  remember  your  saying  so  once — Once!    Yes,  then:  you 
said  it  then,  during  our  'Once;'  when  I  little  thought^ 
would  be  merciless  to  me  — who  loved  you  from  toe  t 
the  very  first !     I  love  you  now !    I  wake  up  in  the  nighl 
thinking  I  hear  your  voice.    You  haunt  me.     Cruel !  col<3 
—who  guards  you  and  watches  over  you  but  the  man  y 
now  hate?    You  sit  there  as  if  you  could  make  yours- 
stone  when  you  pleased.    Did  I  not  chastise  that  man  I 


EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

cles  publicly  because  he  spoke  a  single  lie  of  you?  And 
by  that  act  I  have  made  an  enemy  to  our  house  who  may 
crush  us  in  ruin.  Do  I  regret  it  ?  No.  I  would  do  any 
madness,  waste  all  my  blood  for  you,  die  for  you ! " 

Emilia's  fingers  received  a  final  twist,  and  were  dropped 
loose.  She  let  them  hang,  looking  sadly  downward.  Mel- 
ancholy is  the  most  irritating  reply  to  passion,  and  Wilfrid's 
heart  waxed  fierce  at  the  sight  of  her,  grown  beautiful !  — 
grown  elegant !  —  and  to  reject  him !  When,  after  a  silence 
which  his  pride  would  not  suffer  him  to  break,  she  spoke 
to  ask  what  Mr.  Pericles  had  said  of  her,  he  was  enraged, 
forgot  himself,  and  answered :  "  Something  disgraceful." 

Deep  colour  came  on  Emilia.  "You  struck  him,  Wil- 
frid?" 

"It  was  a  small  punishment  for  his  infamous  lie,  and, 
whatever  might  be  the  consequences,  I  would  do  it  again." 

"Wilfrid,  I  have  heard  what  he  has  said.  Madame 
Marini  has  told  me.  I  wish  you  had  not  struck  him.  I 
cannot  think  of  him  apart  from  the  days  when  I  had  my 
voice.  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  your  having  hurt  him. 

He  was  not  to  blame.  That  is,  he  did  not  say : it  was 

not  untrue." 

She  took  a  breath  to  make  this  last  statement,  and  con- 
tinued with  the  same  peculiar  implicity  of  distinctness, 
which  a  terrific  thunder  of  "  What?  "  from  Wilfrid  did  not 
overbear:  "I  was  quite  mad  that  day  I  went  to  him.  I 
think,  in  my  despair  I  spoke  things  that  may  have  led  him 
to  fancy  the  truth  of  what  he  has  said.  On  my  honour,  I 
do  not  know.  And  I  cannot  remember  what  happened  after 
for  the  week  I  wandered  alone  about  London.  Mr.  Powys 
found  me  on  a  wharf  by  the  river  at  night." 

A  groan  burst  from  Wilfrid.  Emilia's  instinct  had  di- 
vined the  antidote  that  this  would  be  to  the  poison  of 
revived  love  in  him,  and  she  felt  secure,  though  he  had 
again  taken  her  hand;  but  it  was  she  who  nursed  a  mere 
sentiment  now,  while  passion  sprang  in  him,  and  she  was 
not  prepared  for  the  delirium  with  which  he  enveloped  her. 
She  listened  to  his  raving  senselessly,  beginning  to  think 
herself  lost.  Her  tortured  hands  were  kissed;  her  eyes 
gazed  into.  He  interpreted  her  stupefaction  as  contrition, 
her  silence  as  delicacy,  her  changeing  of  colour  as  flying 


A  FRESH   DUETT   BETWEEN  WILFRID  AND   EMILIA      483 

hues  of  shame:  the  partial  coldness  at  their  meeting  he 
attributed  to  the  burden  on  her  mind,  and  muttering  in  a 
magnanimous  sublimity  that  he  forgave  her,  he  claimed  her 
mouth  with  force. 

"Don't  touch  me  ! "  cried  Emilia,  showing  terror. 

"  Are  you  not  mine  ?  " 

"You  must  not  kiss  me." 

Wilfrid  loosened  her  waist,  and  became  in  a  minute  out- 
wardly most  cool  and  courteous. 

"  My  successor  may  object.  I  am  bound  to  consider  him. 
Pardon  me.  ONCE  ! " 

The  wretched  insult  and  silly  emphasis  passed  harmlessly 
from  her:  but  a  word  had  led  her  thoughts  to  Merthyr's 
face,  and  what  is  meant  by  the  phrase  'keeping  oneself 
pure,'  stood  clearly  in  Emilia's  mind.  She  had  not  winced; 
and  therefore  Wilfrid  judged  that  his  shot  had  missed  be- 
cause there  was  no  mark.  With  his  eye  upon  her  sideways, 
showing  its  circle  wide  as  a  parrot's,  he  asked  her  one  of 
those  questions  that  lovers  sometimes  permit  between  them- 
selves. "  Has  another ?  "  It  is  here  as  it  was  uttered. 

Eye-speech  finished  the  sentence. 

Rapidly  a  train  of  thought  was  started  in  Emilia,  and  she 
came  to  this  conclusion,  aloud:  "Then  I  love  nobody f" 
For  she  had  never  kissed  Merthyr,  or  wished  for  his  kiss. 

"You  do  not?"  said  Wilfrid,  after  a  silence.  "You  are 
generous  in  being  candid." 

A  pressure  of  intensest  sorrow  bowed  his  head.  The  real 
feeling  in  him  stole  to  Emilia  like  a  subtle  flame. 

"Oh!  what  can  I  do  for  you?"  she  cried. 

"  Nothing,  if  you  do  not  love  me,"  he  was  replying  mourn- 
fully, when,  "Yes!  yes!"  rushed  to  his  lips;  "marry  me: 
marry  me  to-morrow.     You  have  loved  me.     'I  am  never 
to  leave  you ! '     Can  you  forget  the  night  when  you  said  i 
Emilia !     Marry  me  and  you  will  love  me  again.     You  must. 

This  man,  whoever  he  is Ah !  why  am  I  such  a  brute ! 

Come!  be  mine!    Let  me  call  you  my  own  darling!    Emilia? 
—-or  say  quietly  — 'you  have  nothing  to  hope  for: 
not  reproach  you,  believe  me." 

He  looked  resigned.     The  abrupt  transition  had  drai 
her  eyes  to  his.     She  faltered :  "  I  cannot  be  married.      And 
then:  "How  could  I  guess  that  you  felt  in  this  way? 


434  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"Who  told  me  that  I  should?"  said  he.  "Your  words 
have  come  true.  You  predicted  that  I  should  fly  from  'that 
woman, '  as  you  called  her,  and  come  to  you.  See !  here  it 
is  exactly  as  you  willed  it.  You  —  you  are  changed.  You 
throw  your  magic  on  me,  and  then  you  are  satisfied,  and 
turn  elsewhere." 

Emilia's  conscience  smote  her  with  a  verification  of  this 
charge,  and  she  trembled,  half-intoxicated  for  the  moment, 
by  the  aspect  of  her  power.  This  filled  her  likewise  with  a 
dangerous  pity  for  its  victim;  and  now,  putting  out  both 
hands  to  him,  her  chin  and  shoulders  raised  entreatingly, 
she  begged  the  victim  to  spare  her  any  word  of  marriage. 

"But  you  go,  you  run  away  from  me  —  I  don't  know 
where  you  are  or  what  you  are  doing, "  said  Wilfrid.  "  And 
you  leave  me  to  that  woman.  She  loves  the  Austrians,  as 
you  know.  There !  I  will  ask  nothing  —  only  this :  I  will 
promise,  if  I  quit  the  Queen's  service  for  good,  not  to  wear 
the  white  uniform " 

"  Oh !  "  Emilia  breathed  inward  deeply,  scarce  noticing 
the  'if  that  followed;  nodding  quick  assent  to  the  stipula- 
tion before  she  heard  the  nature  of  it.  It  was,  that  she 
should  continue  in  England. 

"Your  word,"  said  Wilfrid;  and  she  pledged  it,  and  did 
not  think  she  was  granting  much  in  the  prospect  of  what 
she  gained. 

"You  will,  then?"  said  he. 

"Yes,  I  will." 

"  On  your  honour?  " 

These  reiterated  questions  were  simply  pretexts  for  steps 
nearer  to  the  answering  lips. 

"  And  I  may  see  you?  "  he  went  on. 

"Yes." 

"Wherever  you  are  staying?  And  sometimes  alone? 
Alone! »  ' 

"Not  if  you  do  not  know  that  I  am  to  be  respected,"  said 
Emilia,  huddled  in  the  passionate  fold  of  his  arms.  He  re- 
leased her  instantly,  and  was  departing,  wounded;  but  his 
heart  counselled  wiser  proceedings. 

"  To  know  that  you  are  in  England,  breathing  the  same 
air  with  me,  near  me!  is  enough.  Since  we  are  to  meet  on 
those  terms,  let  it  be  so.  Let  me  only  see  you  till  some 
lucky  shot  puts  me  out  of  your  way." 


A  FRESH   DDETT  BETWEEN  WILFBID  AND   EMILIA      486 

This  'some  lucky  shot,'  which  is  commonly  pointed  at 
themselves  by  the  sentimental  lovers,  with  the  object  of 
hitting  the  very  centre  of  the  hearts  of  obdurate  damseU, 
glanced  off  Emilia's,  which  was  beginning  to  throb  with  a 
comprehension  of  all  that  was  involved  in  the  word  she  had 
given. 

"I  have  your  promise?"  he  repeated:  and  she  bent  her 
head. 

"Not,"  he  resumed,  taking  jealousy  to  counsel,  now  that 
he  had  advanced  a  step :  "  Not  that  I  would  detain  you  against 
your  will!  I  can't  expect  to  make  such  a  figure  at  the  end 
of  the  piece  as  your  Count  Branciani  —  who,  by  the  way, 
served  his  friends  oddly,  however  well  he  may  have  served 
his  country." 

"  His  friends  ?  "     She  frowned. 

"Did  he  not  betray  the  conspirators?  He  handed  in 
names,  now  and  then." 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried,  "  you  understand  us  no  better  than  an 
Austrian.  He  handed  in  names  —  yes!  he  was  obliged  to 
lull  suspicion.  Two  or  three  of  the  least  implicated  volun- 
teered to  be  betrayed  by  him ;  they  went  and  confessed,  and 
put  the  Government  on  a  wrong  track.  Count  Branciani 
made  a  dish  of  traitors  —  not  true  men  —  to  satisfy  the 
Austrian  ogre.  No  one  knew  the  head  of  the  plot  till  that 
night  of  the  spy.  Do  you  not  see?  —  he  weeded  the  con- 
spiracy ! " 

"  Poor  fellow ! "  Wilfrid  answered,  with  a  contracted 
mouth :  "  I  pity  him  for  being  cut  off  from  his  handsome 
wife." 

"I  pity  her  for  having  to  live,"  said  Emilia. 

And  so  their  duett  dropped  to  a  finish.  He  liked  her 
phrase  better  than  his  own,  and  being  denied  any  privileges, 
and  feeling  stupefied  by  a  position  which  both  enticed  and 
stung  him,  he  remarked  that  he  presumed  he  must  not  detain 
her  any  longer;  whereupon  she  gave  him  her  hand.  He 
clutched  the  ready  hand  reproachfully. 

"Good-bye,"  said  she. 

"You  are  the  first  to  say  it,"  he  complained. 

"  Will  you  write  to  that  Austrian  colonel,  your  cousin,  to 
say 'Never!  never!'  to-morrow,  Wilfrid?" 

"  While  you  are  in  England,  I  shall  stay,  be  sure  of  that. 


436  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

She  bade  him  give  her  love  to  all  Brookfield. 

"  Once  you  had  none  to  give  but  what  I  let  you  take  back 
for  the  purpose !  "  he  said.  "  Farewell !  I  shall  see  the 
harp  to-night.  It  stands  in  the  old  place.  I  will  not  have 
it  moved  or  touched  till  you " 

"Ah!  how  kind  you  were,  Wilfrid!" 

"  And  how  lovely  you  are !  " 

There  was  no  struggle  to  preserve  the  backs  of  her  fingers 
from  his  lips,  and,  as  this  time  his  phrase  was  not  palpably 
obscured  by  the  one  it  countered,  artistic  sentiment  per- 
mitted him  to  go. 


CHAPTER  LIII 
ALDEBMAN'S  BOUQUET 

A  MINUTE  after  his  parting  with  Emilia,  Wilfrid  swung 
round  in  the  street  and  walked  back  at  great  strides. 
"  What  a  fool  I  was  not  to  see  that  she  was  acting  indiffer- 
ence !  "  he  cried.  "  Let  me  have  two  seconds  with  her !  " 
But  how  that  was  to  be  contrived  his  diplomatic  brain  re- 
fused to  say.  "And  what  a  stiff,  formal  fellow  I  was  all 
the  time !  "  He  considered  that  he  had  not  uttered  a  sen- 
tence in  any  way  pointed  to  touch  her  heart.  "  She  must 
think  I  am  still  determined  to  marry  that  woman." 

Wilfrid  had  taken  his  stand  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street,  and  beheld  a  male  figure  in  the  dusk,  that  went  up 
to  the  house  and  then  stood  back  scanning  the  windows. 
Wounded  by  his  audacious  irreverence  toward  the  walls 
behind  which  his  beloved  was  sheltered,  Wilfrid  crossed 
and  stared  at  the  intruder.  It  proved  to  be  Braintop. 

"How  do  you  do,  sir! — no!  that  can't  be  the  house," 
stammered  Braintop,  with  a  very  earnest  scrutiny. 

"What  house?  what  do  you  want?"  enquired  Wilfrid. 

"  Jenkinson, "  was  the  name  that  won  the  honour  of  rescu- 
ing Braintop  from  this  dilemma. 

"No;  it  is  Lady  Gosstre's  house:  Miss  Belloni  is  living 
there;  and  stop:  you  know  her.  Just  wait,  and  take  in 
two  or  three  words  from  me,  and  notice  particularly  how 


ALDERMAN'S  BOUQUET  487 

she  is  looking,  and  the  dress  she  wears.  You  can  say  — 
say  that  Mrs.  Chump  sent  you  to  enquire  after  Miss  Belloni'i 
health." 

Wilfrid  tore  a  leaf  from  his  pocket-book,  and  wrote: 
'I can  be  free  to-morrow.     One  word!    I  thatt  expect  it, 
with  your  name  in  full. ' 

But  even  in  the  red  heat  of  passion  his  born  diplomacy 
withheld  his  own  signature.  It  was  not  difficult  to  over- 
ride Braintop's  scruples  about  presenting  himself,  and  Wil- 
frid paced  a  sentinel  measure  awaiting  the  reply.  "  F^ee 
to-morrow,"  he  repeated,  with  a  glance  at  his  watch  under 
a  lamp :  and  thus  he  soliloquized :  "  What  a  time  that  fellow 
is !  Yes,  I  can  be  free  to-morrow  if  I  will.  I  wonder  what 
the  deuce  Gambier  had  to  do  in  Monmouthshire.  If  he  has 
been  playing  with  my  sister's  reputation,  he  shall  have 
short  shrift.  That  fellow  Braintop  sees  her  now  —  my 
little  Emilia!  my  bird!  She  won't  have  changed  her  dress 
till  she  has  dined.  If  she  changes  it  before  she  goes  out  — 
by  Jove,  if  she  wears  it  to-night  before  all  those  people, 
that'll  mean  'Good-bye'  to  me:  —  'Addio,  caro,' as  those 
olive  women  say,  with  their  damned  cold  languor,  when 
they  have  given  you  up.  She's  not  one  of  them!  Good 
God!  she  came  into  the  room  looking  like  a  little  Empress. 
I'll  swear  her  hand  trembled  when  I  went,  though!  My 
sisters  shall  see  her  in  that  dress.  She  must  have  a  clever 
lady's  maid  to  have  done  that  knot  to  her  back  hair.  She'i 
getting  as  full  of  art  as  any  of  them  —  Oh !  lovely  little  dar- 
ling! And  when  she  smiles  and  holds  out  her  hand! 
What  is  it  —  what  is  it  about  her?  Her  upper  lip  isn't  per- 
fectly cut,  there's  some  fault  with  her  nose,  but  I  never 
saw  such  a  mouth,  or  such  a  face.  'Free  to-morrow?' 
Good  God!  she'll  think  I  mean  I'm  free  to  take  a  walk!' 
At  this  view  of  the  ghastly  shortcoming  of  his  letter  as 
regards  distinctness,  and  the  prosaic  misinterpretation  it 
was  open  to,  Wilfrid  called  his  inventive  wits  to  aid,  and 
ran  swiftly  to  the  end  of  the  street.  He  had  become  aa 
like  unto  a  lunatic  as  resemblance  can  approach  identity. 
Commanding  the  length  of  the  pavement  for  an  instant,  to 
be  sure  that  no  Braintop  was  in  sight,  he  ran  down  a  lateral 
street,  but  the  stationer's  shop  he  was  in  search  of  beamed 
nowhere  visible  for  him,  and  he  returned  at  the  same 


438  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

to  experience  despair  at  the  thought  that  he  might  have 
missed  Braintop  issuing  forth,  for  whom  he  scoured  the 
immediate  neighbourhood,  and  overhauled  not  a  few  quiet 
gentlemen  of  all  ages.  "  An  envelope ! "  That  was  the 
object  of  his  desire,  and  for  that  he  wooed  a  damsel  passing 
jauntily  with  a  jug  in  her  hand,  first  telling  her  that  he 
knew  her  name  was  Mary,  at  which  singular  piece  of  divina- 
tion she  betrayed  much  natural  astonishment.  But  a  fine 
round  silver  coin  and  an  urgent  request  for  an  envelope, 
told  her  as  plainly  as  a  blank  confession  that  this  was  a 
lover.  She  informed  him  that  she  lived  three  streets  off, 
where  there  were  shops.  "Well,  then,"  said  Wilfrid, 
"  bring  me  the  envelope  here,  and  you'll  have  another  op- 
portunity of  looking  down  the  area." 

"Think  of  yourself,"  replied  she,  saucily;  but  proved  a 
diligent  messenger.  Then  Wilfrid  wrote  on  a  fresh  slip: 

'  When  I  said  "Free,"  I  meant  free  in  heart  and  without  a 
single  chain  to  keep  me  from  you.  From  any  moment  that 
you  please,  I  am  free.  This  is  written  in  the  dark. ' 

He  closed  the  envelope,  and  wrote  Emilia's  name  and 
the  address  as  black  as  his  pencil  could  achieve  it,  and  with 
a  smart  double-knock  he  deposited  the  missive  in  the  box. 
From  his  station  opposite  he  guessed  the  instant  when  it 
was  taken  out,  and  from  that  judged  when  she  would  be 
reading  it.  Or  perhaps  she  would  not  read  it  till  she  was 
alone?  "That  must  be  her  bedroom,"  he  said,  looking  for 
a  light  in  one  of  the  upper  windows;  but  the  voice  of  a 
fellow  who  went  by  with :  "  I  should  keep  that  to  myself, 
if  I  was  you,"  warned  him  to  be  more  discreet. 

"Well,  here  I  am.  I  can't  leave  the  street,"  quoth  Wil- 
frid, to  the  stock  of  philosophy  at  his  disposal.  He  burned 
with  rage  to  think  of  how  he  might  be  exhibiting  himself 
before  Powys  and  his  sister. 

It  was  half -past  nine  when  a  carriage  drove  up  to  the 
door.  Into  this  Mr.  Powys  presently  handed  Georgiana 
and  Emilia.  Braintop  followed  the  ladies,  and  then  the 
coachman  received  his  instructions  and  drove  away.  Forth- 
with Wilfrid  started  in  pursuit.  He  calculated  that  if  his 
wind  held  till  he  could  jump  into  a  light  cab,  his  legitimate 
prey  Braintop  might  be  caught.  For,  "  they  can't  be  taking 
him  to  any  party  with  them!"  he  chose  to  think,  and  i* 


ALDERMAN'S  BOUQUET 

was  a  fair  calculation  that  they  were  simply  conducting 
Braintop  part  of  his  way  home.  The  run  was  pretty  swift. 
Wilfrid's  blood  was  fired  by  the  pace,  until,  forgetting  the 
traitor  Braintop,  up  rose  Truth  from  the  bottom  of  the  well 
in  him,  and  he  felt  that  his  sole  desire  was  to  see  Emilia 
once  more  —  but  once !  that  night.  Running  hard,  in  the 
midst  of  obstacles,  and  with  eye  and  mind  fixed  on  one  ob- 
ject, disasters  befell  him.  He  knocked  apples  off  a  stall, 
and  heard  vehement  hallooing  behind :  he  came  into  col- 
lision with  a  gentleman  of  middle  age  courting  digestion  as 
he  walked  from  his  trusty  dinner  at  home  to  his  rubber  at 
the  Club :  finally  he  rushed  full  tilt  against  a  pot-boy  who 
was  bringing  all  his  pots  broadside  to  the  flow  of  the  street. 
"  By  Jove !  is  this  what  they  drink?  "  he  gasped,  and  dabbed 
with  his  handkerchief  at  the  beer-splashes,  breathlessly 
hailing  the  looked-for  cab,  and,  with  hot  brow  and  straight- 
ened-out  forefinger,  telling  the  driver  to  keep  that  carriage 
in  sight.  The  pot-boy  had  to  be  satisfied  on  his  master's 
account,  and  then  on  his  own,  and  away  shot  Wilfrid,  wet 
with  beer  from  throat  to  knee  —  to  his  chief  protesting 
sense,  nothing  but  an  exhalation  of  beer!  "Is  this  what 
they  drink?  "  he  groaned,  thinking  lamentably  of  the  tastes 
of  the  populace.  All  idea  of  going  near  Emilia  was  now 
abandoned.  An  outward  application  of  beer  quenched  his 
frenzy.  She  seemed  as  an  unattainable  star  seen  from  the 
depths  of  foul  pits.  "Stop!  "  he  cried  from  the  window. 

"Here  we  are,  sir,"  said  the  cabman. 

The  carriage  had  drawn  up,  and  a  footman's  alarum 
awakened  one  of  the  houses.  The  wretched  cabman  had 
likewise  drawn  up  right  under  the  windows  of  the  carriage. 
Wilfrid  could  have  pulled  the  trigger  of  a  pistol  at  his  fore- 
head that  moment.  He  saw  that  Miss  Ford  had  recognized 
him,  and  he  at  once  bowed  elegantly.  She  dropped  the 
window,  and  said,  "You  are  in  evening  dress,  I  think;  we 
will  take  you  in  with  us." 

Wilfrid  hoped  eagerly  he  might  be  allowed  1 3  hand  th 
to  the  door,  and  made  three  skips  across  the  mire, 
had  her  hands  gathered  away  from  the  chances  of 
In  wild  rage  he  began  protesting  that  he  could  not  powiWy 
enter,  when  Georgiana  said,  "I  wish  to  speak  to  you,    an. 
put  feminine  pressure  upon  him.     He  was  almos 


440  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

verge  of  the  word  "  beer, "  by  way  of  despairing  explana- 
tion, when  the  door  closed  behind  him. 

"Permit  me  to  say  a  word  to  your  recent  companion. 
He  is  my  father's  clerk.  I  had  to  see  him  on  urgent  busi- 
ness; that  is  why  I  took  this  liberty,"  he  said,  and  retreated. 

Braintop  was  still  there,  quietly  posted,  performing  upon 
his  head  with  a  pocket  hair-brush. 

Wilfrid  put  Braintop's  back  to  the  light,  and  said,  "Is 
my  shirt  soiled?  " 

After  a  short  inspection,  Braintop  pronounced  that  it 
was,  "just  a  little." 

"  Do  you  smell  anything?  "  said  Wilfrid,  and  hung  with 
frightful  suspense  on  the  verdict.  "A  fellow  upset  beer 
on  me." 

"  It  is  beer !  "  sniffed  Braintop. 

"What  on  earth  shall  I  do?"  was  the  rejoinder;  and 
Wilfrid  tried  to  remember  whether  he  had  felt  any  sacred 
joy  in  touching  Emilia's  dress  as  they  went  up  the  steps  to 
the  door. 

Braintop  fumbled  in  the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat.  "  I 
happen  to  have, "  he  said,  rather  shamefacedly  — 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Mrs.  Chump  gave  it  to  me  to-day.  She  always  makes 
me  accept  something :  I  can't  refuse.  It's  this :  —  the  re- 
mains of  some  scent  she  insisted  on  my  taking,  in  a  bottle." 

Wilfrid  plucked  at  the  stopper  with  a  reckless  despera- 
tion, saturated  his  handkerchief,  and  worked  at  his  breast 
as  if  he  were  driving  a  lusty  dagger  into  it. 

"What  scent  is  it?"  he  asked  hurriedly. 

"Alderman's  Bouquet,  sir." 

"Of  all  the  detestable! "  Wilfrid  had  no  time  for 

more,  owing  to  fresh  arrivals.  He  hastened  in,  with  his 
smiling,  wary  face,  half  trusting  that  there  might  after  all 
be  purification  in  Alderman's  Bouquet,  and  promising 
heaven  due  gratitude  if  Emilia's  senses  discerned  not  the 
curse  on  him.  In  the  hall  a  gust  from  the  great  opening 
contention  between  Alderman's  Bouquet  and  bad  beer, 
stifled  his  sickly  hope.  Frantic,  but  under  perfect  self- 
command  outwardly,  he  glanced  to  right  and  left,  for  the 
suggestion  of  a  means  of  escape.  They  were  seven  steps 
up  the  stairs  before  his  wits  prompted  him  to  say  to  Georgi- 


ALDERMAN'S  BOUQUET  441 

ana,  "  I  have  just  heard  very  serious  news  from  home.  I 
fear " 

"What?  — or,  pardon  me:  does  it  call  you  away?"  she 
asked,  and  Emilia  gave  him  a  steady  look. 

"I  fear  I  cannot  remain  here.     Will  you  excuse  me?" 

His  face  spoke  plainly  now  of  mental  torture  repressed. 
Georgiana  put  her  hand  out  in  full  sympathy,  and  Emilia 
said,  in  her  deep  whisper,  "  Let  me  hear  to-morrow."  Then 
they  bowed.  Wilfrid  was  in  the  street  again. 

"  Thank  God,  I've  seen  her!  "  was  his  first  thought,  over- 
bearing "What  did  she  think  of  me?"  as  he  sighed  with 
relief  at  his  escape.  For,  lo !  the  Branciani  dress  was  not 
on  her  shoulders,  and  therefore  he  might  imagine  what  he 
pleased :  —  that  she  had  arrayed  herself  so  during  the  day 
to  delight  his  eyes ;  or  that,  he  having  seen  her  in  it,  she 
had  determined  none  others  should.  Though  feeling  utterly 
humiliated,  he  was  yet  happy.  Driving  to  the  station,  he 
perceived  starlight  overhead,  and  blessed  it;  while  his  hand 
waved  busily  to  conduct  a  current  of  fresh,  oblivious  air  to 
his  nostrils.  The  quiet  heavens  seemed  all  crowding  to 
look  down  on  the  quiet  circle  of  the  firs,  where  Emilia's 
harp  had  first  been  heard  by  him,  and  they  took  her  music, 
charming  his  blood  with  imagined  harmonies,  as  he  looked 
up  to  them.  Thus  all  the  way  to  Brookfield  his  fancy 
soared,  plucked  at  from  below  by  Alderman's  Bouquet. 

The  Philosopher,  up  to  this  point  rigidly  excluded, 
rushes  forward  to  the  footlights  to  explain  in  a  note,  that 
Wilfrid,  thus  setting  a  perfume  to  contend  with  a  stench, 
instead  of  waiting  for  time,  change  of  raiment,  and  the 
broad  lusty  airs  of  heaven  to  blow  him  fresh  again,  sym- 
bolizes the  vice  of  Sentimentalism,  and  what  it  is  alwaj* 
doing.  Enough ! 


442  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

CHAPTER  LIV 

THE   EXPLOSION   AT   BBOOKFIELD 

"LET  me  hear  to-morrow."  Wilfrid  repeated  Emilia's 
petition  in  the  tone  she  had  used,  and  sent  a  delight  through 
his  veins  even  with  that  clumsy  effort  of  imitation.  He 
walked  from  the  railway  to  Brookfield  through  the  circle  of 
firs,  thinking  of  some  serious  tale  of  home  to  invent  for 
her  ears  to-morrow.  Whatever  it  was,  he  was  able  to  con- 
clude it  —  "But  all's  right  now."  He  noticed  that  the 
dwarf  pine,  under  whose  spreading  head  his  darling  sat 
when  he  saw  her  first,  had  been  cut  down.  Its  absence 
gave  him  an  ominous  chill. 

The  first  sight  that  saluted  him  as  the  door  opened,  was 
a  pile  of  Mrs.  Chump's  boxes :  he  listened,  and  her  voice 
resounded  from  the  library.  Gainsford's  eye  expressed  a 
discretion  significant  that  there  had  been  an  explosion  in 
the  house. 

"I  shan't  have  to  invent  much,"  said  Wilfrid  to  himself, 
bitterly. 

There  was  a  momentary  appearance  of  Adela  at  the 
library-door ;  and  over  her  shoulder  came  an  outcry  from 
Mrs.  Chump.  Arabella  then  spoke :  Mr.  Pole  and  Cornelia 
following  with  a  word,  to  which  Mrs.  Chump  responded 
shrilly :  "Ye  shan't  talk  to  'm,  none  of  ye,  till  I've  had  the 
bloom  of  his  ear,  now ! "  A  confused  hubbub  of  English 
and  Irish  ensued.  The  ladies  drew  their  brother  into  the 
library. 

Doubtless  you  have  seen  a  favourite  sketch  of  the  imagi- 
native youthful  artist,  who  delights  to  portray  scenes  on  a 
raft  amid  the  tossing  waters,  where  sweet  and  satiny  ladies, 
in  a  pardonable  abandonment  to  the  exigencies  of  the  occa- 
sion, are  exhibiting  the  full  energy  and  activity  of  creatures 
that  existed  before  sentiment  was  born.  The  ladies  of 
Brookfield  had  almost  as  utterly  cast  off  their  garb  of  lofty 
reserve  and  inscrutable  superiority.  They  were  begging 
Mrs.  Chump  to  be,  for  pity's  sake,  silent.  They  were 
arguing  with  th*  woman.  They  were  remonstrating  —  to 


THE  EXPLOSION   AT  BBOOKFIELD  443 

such  an  extent  as  this,  in  reply  to  an  infamous  outburst: 
"No,  no:  indeed,  Mrs.  Chump,  indeed!"  They  rose,  as 
she  rose,  and  stood  about  her,  motioning  a  beseeching  em- 
phasis with  their  hands.  Not  visible  for  one  second  was 
the  intense  indignation  at  their  fate  which  Wilfrid,  spying 
keenly  into  them,  perceived.  This  taught  him  that  the 
occasion  was  as  grave  as  could  be.  In  spite  of  the  oily 
words  his  father  threw  from  time  to  time  abruptly  on  the 
tumult,  he  guessed  what  had  happened. 

Briefly,  Mrs.  Chump,  aided  by  Braintop,  her  squire,  had  at 
last  hunted  Mr.  Pericles  down,  and  the  wrathful  Greek  had 
called  her  a  beggar.  With  devilish  malice  he  had  reproached 
her  for  speculating  in  such  and  such  Bonds,  and  sending 
ventures  to  this  and  that  hemisphere,  laughing  infernally  as 
he  watched  her  growing  amazement.  "Ye're  jokin',  Mr. 
Paricles,"  she  tried  to  say  and  think ;  but  the  very  naming 
of  poverty  had  given  her  shivers.  She  told  him  how  she 
had  come  to  him  because  of  Mr.  Pole's  reproach,  which 
accused  her  of  causing  the  rupture.  Mr.  Pericles  twisted 
the  waxy  points  of  his  moustache.  "  I  shall  advise  you,  go 
home,"  he  said ;  "  go  to  a  lawyer :  say, '  I  will  see  my  affairs, 
how  zey  stand.'  Ze  man  will  find  Pole  is  ruined.  It  may 
be  —  I  do  not  know  —  Pole  has  left  a  little  of  your  money ; 
yes,  ma'am,  it  may  be." 

The  end  of  the  interview  saw  Mrs.  Chump  flying  past  Mr. 
Pericles  to  where  Braintop  stood  awaiting  her  with  a  medi- 
tative speculation  on  that  official  promotion  which  in  his 
attention  to  the  lady  he  anticipated.  It  need  scarcely  be 
remarked  that  he  was  astonished  to  receive  a  scent-bottle  on 
the  spot,  as  the  only  reward  his  meritorious  service  was 
probably  destined  ever  to  meet  with.  Breathless  in  her 
panic,  Mrs.  Chump  assured  him  she  was  a  howling  beggar, 
and  the  smell  of  a  scent  was  "like  a  crool  blow  to  her;" 
above  all,  the  smell  of  Alderman's  Bouquet,  which  Chump 
—  "  tell'n  a  lie,  ye  know,  Mr.  Braintop,  said  was  after  him. 
And  I,  smell'n  at 't  over  'n  Ireland  — a  raw  garl  I  was- 
just  thought  'm  a  prince,  the  little  sly  fella !  And  oh !  I'm 
a  beggar,  I  am ! "  With  which,  she  shouted  in  the  street, 
and  put  Braintop  to  such  confusion  that  he  hailed  a  cab 
recklessly,  declaring  to  her  she  had  no  time  to  lose,  J 
she  wished  to  catch  the  train.  Mrs.  Chump  requested  the 


444  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

cabman  that  as  a  man  possessed  of  a  feeling  heart  for  the 
interests  of  a  helpless  woman,  he  would  drive  fast ;  and,  at 
the  station,  disputed  his  charge  on  the  ground  of  the  know- 
ledge already  imparted  to  him  of  her  precarious  financial 
state.  In  this  frame  of  mind  she  fell  upon  Brookfield,  and 
there  was  clamour  in  the  house.  Wilfrid  arrived  two  hours 
after  Mrs.  Chump.  For  that  space  the  ladies  had  been  say- 
ing over  and  over  again  empty  words  to  pacify  her.  The 
task  now  devolved  on  their  brother.  Mr.  Pole,  though  he 
had  betrayed  nothing  under  the  excitement  of  the  sudden 
shock,  had  lost  the  proper  control  of  his  mask.  Wilfrid 
commenced  by  fixedly  listening  to  Mrs.  Chump  until  for  the 
third  time  her  breath  had  gone.  Then,  taking  on  a  smile, 
he  said:  "Perhaps  you  are  aware  that  Mr.  Pericles  has  a 
particular  reason  for  animosity  to  me.  We've  disagreed 
together,  that's  all.  I  suppose  it's  the  habit  of  those  fellows 
to  attack  a  whole  family  where  one  member  of  it  offends 
them."  As  soon  as  the  meaning  of  this  was  made  clear  to 
Mrs.  Chump,  she  caught  it  to  her  bosom  for  comfort;  and 
finding  it  gave  less  than  at  the  moment  she  required,  she 
flung  it  away  altogether ;  and  then  moaned,  a  suppliant,  for 
it  once  more.  "The  only  thing,  if  you  are  in  a  state  of 
alarm  about  my  father's  affairs,  is  for  him  to  show  you  by 
his  books  that  his  house  is  firm,"  said  Wilfrid,  now  that  he 
had  so  far  helped  to  eject  suspicion  from  her  mind. 

"Will  Pole  do  ut?  "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Chump,  half  off  her 
seat. 

"  Of  course  I  will  —  of  course !  of  course.  Haven't  I  told 
you  so?"  said  Mr.  Pole,  blinking  mightily  from  his  arm- 
chair over  the  fire.  "Sit  down,  Martha." 

"  Oh !  but  how'll  I  understand  ye,  Pole  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  I'll  do  my  best  to  assist  in  explaining,"  Wilfrid  conde- 
scended to  say. 

The  ladies  were  touched  when  Mrs.  Chump  replied,  with 
something  of  a  curtsey,  "  I'll  thank  ye  vary  much,  sir."  She 
added  immediately,  "  Mr.  Wilf  rud,"  as  if  correcting  the  '  sir/ 
for  sounding  cold. 

It  was  so  trustful  and  simple,  that  it  threw  a  light  on  the 
woman  under  which  they  had  not  yet  beheld  her.  Compas- 
sion began  to  stir  in  their  bosoms,  and  with  it  an  inexplicable 
sense  of  shame,  which  soon  threw  any  power  of  compassion 


THE  EXPLOSION   AT  BROOKFIKLD  446 

into  the  background.  They  dared  not  ask  themselves  whether 
it  was  true  that  their  father  had  risked  the  poor  thing's 
money  in  some  desperate  stake.  What  hopeful  force  was 
left  to  them  they  devoted  to  her  property,  and  Adela  deter- 
mined to  pray  that  night  for  its  safe  preservation.  The 
secret  feeling  in  the  hearts  of  the  ladies  was,  that  in  putting 
them  on  their  trial  with  poverty,  Celestial  Powers  would 
never  at  the  same  time  think  it  necessary  to  add  disgrace 
Consequently,  and  as  a  defence  against  the  darker  dread, 
they  now,  for  the  first  time,  fully  believed  that  monetary 
ruin  had  befallen  their  father.  They  were  civil  to  Mrs. 
Chump,  and  forgiving  toward  her  brogue,  and  her  naked 
outcries  of  complaint  and  suddenly-suggested  panic;  but 
their  pity,  save  when  some  odd  turn  in  her  conduct  moved 
them,  was  reserved  dutifully  for  their  father.  His  wretched 
sensations  at  the  pouring  of  a  storm  of  tears  from  the  ex- 
hausted creature,  caused  Arabella  to  rise  and  say  to  Mrs. 
Chump  kindly,  "  Now  let  me  take  you  to  bed." 

But  such  a  novel  mark  of  tender  civility  caused  the  woman 
to  exclaim :  "  Oh,  dear !  if  ye  don't  sound  like  wheedlin'  to 
keep  me  blind." 

Even  this  was  borne  with.  "  Come ;  it  will  do  you  good 
to  rest,"  said  Arabella. 

"Andhow'lllsleep?" 

"  By  '  shutting  my  eye-peeps,'  —  as  I  used  to  tell  my  old 
nurse,"  said  Adela ;  and  Mrs.  Chump,  accustomed  to  an  oc- 
casional (though  not  public)  bit  of  wheedling  from  her,  was 
partially  reassured. 

"  I'll  sit  with  you  till  you  do  sleep,"  said  Arabella. 

"  Suppose,"  Mrs.  Chump  moaned,  "  suppose  I'm  too  poor 
aver  to  repay  ye  ?  If  I'm  a  bankrup'  ?  —  oh ! ' 

Arabella  smiled.  "  Whatever  I  may  do  is  certainly  not 
done  for  a  remuneration,  and  such  a  service  as  this,  at  least, 
you  need  not  speak  of." 

Mrs.  Chump's  evident  surprise,  and  doubt  of  the  honeaw* 
the  change  in  her  manner,  caused  Arabella  very  acutely  to 
feel  its  dishonesty.     She  looked  at  Cornelia  with  envy. 
latter  lady  was  leaning  meditatively,  her  arm  on  a  side  o 
chair,  like  a  pensive  queen,  with  a  ready,  mild,  embracn 
look  for  the  company.     '  Posture  '  seemed  always  fc 
over  action. 


446  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

Before  quitting  the  room,  Mrs.  Chump  asked  Mr.  Pole 
whether  he  would  be  up  early  the  next  morning. 

"  Very  early,  —  you  beat  me,  if  you  can,"  said  he,  aware 
that  the  question  was  put  as  a  test  to  his  sincerity. 

"Oh,  dear!  Suppose  it's  onnly  a  false  alarrm  of  the 
'bomunable  Mr.  Paricles  —  which  annybody'd  have  listened 
to  —  ye  know  that !  "  said  Mrs.  Chump,  going  forth. 

She  stopped  in  the  doorway,  and  turned  her  head  round, 
sniffing,  in  a  very  pronounced  way.  "  Oh,  it's  you,"  she 
flashed  on  Wilfrid ;  "  it's  you,  my  dear,  that  smell  so  like 
poor  Chump.  Oh  !  if  we're  not  rooned,  won't  we  dine  to- 
gether !  Just  give  me  a  kiss,  please.  The  smell  of  ye's 
comfortin'." 

Wilfrid  bent  his  cheek  forward,  affecting  to  laugh,  though 
the  subject  was  tragic  to  him. 

"  Oh !  perhaps  I'll  sleep,  and  not  look  in  the  mornin'  like 
that  beastly  tallow,  Mr.  Paricles  says  I  spent  such  a  lot  of 
money  on,  speculatin'  —  whew,  I  hate  ut !  —  and  hemp  too ! 
Me  !  —  Martha  Chump !  Do  I  want  to  hang  myself,  and  burn 
forty  thousand  pounds  worth  o'  candles  round  my  corpse 
danglin'  there  ?  Now,  there,  now !  Is  that  sense  ?  And 
what'd  Pole  want  to  buy  me  all  that  grease  for?  And 
where'd  I  keep  ut,  I'll  ask  ye  ?  And  sure  they  wouldn't 
make  me  a  bankrup'  on  such  a  pretence  as  that.  For, 
where's  the  Judge  that's  got  the  heart  ?  " 

Having  apparently  satisfied  her  reason  with  these  inter- 
rogations, Mrs.  Chump  departed,  shaking  her  head  at  Wilfrid : 
"  Ye  smile  so  nice,  ye  do  ! "  by  the  way.  Cornelia  and  Adela 
then  rose,  and  Wilfrid  was  left  alone  with  his  father. 

It  was  natural  that  he  should  expect  the  moment  for  entire 
confidence  between  them  to  have  come.  He  crossed  his  legs, 
leaning  over  the  fireplace,  and  waited.  The  old  man  per- 
ceived him,  and  made  certain  humming  sounds,  as  of  prepa- 
ration. Wilfrid  was  half  tempted  to  think  he  wanted  assist- 
ance, and  signified  attention ;  upon  which  Mr.  Pole  became 
immediately  absorbed  in  profound  thought. 

"  Singular  it  is,  you  know,"  he  said  at  last,  with  a  candid 
air,  "people  who  know  nothing  about  business  have  the 
oddest  ideas  —  no  common  sense  in  'em ! " 

After  that  he  fell  dead  silent. 

Wilfrid  knew  that  it  would  be  hard  for  him  to  speak.  To 
encourage  him,  he  said  :  "  You  mean  Mrs.  Chump,  sir  ?  " 


THE  EXPLOSION  AT   BROOKFIELD  447 

"Oh!  silly  woman  —  absurd !  No,  I  mean  all  of  you- 
every  man  Jack,  as  Martha'd  say.  You  seem  to  think  —  but! 
well !  there  !  let's  go  to  bed." 

"To  bed  ?  "  cried  Wilfrid,  frowning. 

"  Why,  when  it's  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  what's 
an  old  fellow  to  do  ?  My  feet  are  cold,  and  I'm  queer  in  the 
back  —  can't  talk !  Light  my  candle,  young  gentleman  —  my 
candle  there,  don't  you  see  it  ?  And  you  look  none  of  the 
freshest.  A  nap  on  your  pillow'll  do  you  no  harm." 

"  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  a  little,  sir,"  said  Wilfrid,  about 
as  much  perplexed  as  he  was  irritated. 

"Now,  no  talk  of  bankers'  books  to-night!"  rejoined  his 
father.  "I  can't  and  won't.  No  cheques  written  'tween 
night  and  morning.  That's  positive.  There!  there's  two 
fingers.  Shall  have  three  to-morrow  morning  —  a  pen  in 
'em,  perhaps." 

With  which  wretched  pleasantry  the  little  merchant 
nodded  to  his  son,  and  snatching  up  his  candle,  trotted  to 
the  door. 

"  By  the  way,  give  a  look  round  my  room  upstairs,  to  see 
all  right  when  you're  going  to  turn  in  yourself,"  he  said, 
before  disappearing. 

The  two  fingers  given  him  by  his  father  to  shake  at  part- 
ing, had  told  Wilfrid  more  than  the  words.  And  yet  how 
small  were  these  troubles  around  him  compared  with  what 
he  himself  was  suffering !  He  looked  forward  to  the  bitter- 
sweet hour  verging  upon  dawn,  when  he  should  be  writing 
to  Emilia  things  to  melt  the  vilest  obduracy.  The  excite- 
ment which  had  greeted  him  on  his  arrival  at  Brookfield 
was  to  be  thanked  for  its  having  made  him  partially  forget 
his  humiliation.  He  had,  of  course,  sufficient  rational  feel- 
ing to  be  chagrined  by  calamity,  but  his  dominant  passion 
sucked  sustaining  juices  from  every  passing  event 

In  obedience  to  his  father's  request,  Wilfrid  went  pres- 
ently into  the  old  man's  bedroom,  to  see  that  all  was  right 
The  curtains  of  the  bed  were  drawn  close,  and  the  fire  in 
the  grate  burnt  steadily.  Calm  sleep  seemed  to  fill  the 
chamber.  Wilfrid  was  retiring,  with  a  revived  anger  at 
his  father's  want  of  natural  confidence  in  him,  or  cowardly 
secresy.  His  name  was  called,  and  he  stopped  short 

"  Yes,  sir  ?  "  he  said. 


448  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

"Door's  shut?" 

"  Shut  fast." 

The  voice,  buried  in  curtains,  canie  after  a  struggle. 

"You've  done  this,  Wilfrid.  Now,  don't  answer:  —  I 
can't  stand  talk.  And  you  must  undo  it.  Pericles  can,  if 
he  likes.  That's  enough  for  you  to  know.  He  can.  He 
won't  see  me.  You  know  why.  If  he  breaks  with  me  —  it's 
a  common  case  in  any  business  —  I'm  .  .  .  we're  involved 
together."  Then  followed  a  deep  sigh.  The  usual  crisp 
brisk  way  of  his  speaking  was  resumed  in  hollow  tones : 
"You  must  stop  it.  Now,  don't  answer.  Go  to  Pericles 
to-morrow.  You  must.  Nothing  wrong,  if  you  go  at  once." 

"  But,  sir !  Good  heaven ! "  interposed  Wilfrid,  horrified 
by  the  thought  of  the  penance  here  indicated. 

The  bed  shook  violently. 

"  If  not,"  was  uttered  with  a  sort  of  muted  vehemence, 
"  there's  another  thing  you  can  do.  Go  to  the  undertaker's, 
and  order  coffins  for  us  all.  There  —  good  night ! " 

The  bed  shook  again.  Wilfrid  stood  eyeing  the  mysteri- 
ous hangings,  as  if  some  dark  oracle  had  spoken  from 
behind  them.  In  fear  of  irritating  the  old  man,  and  almost 
as  much  in  fear  of  bringing  on  himself  a  revelation  of  the 
frightful  crisis  that  could  only  be  averted  by  his  apologiz- 
ing personally  to  the  man  he  had  struck,  Wilfrid  stole  from 
the  room. 


CHAPTEB  LV 

THE   TRAGEDY    OF   SENTIMENT 

THERE  is  a  man  among  our  actors  here  who  may  not  be 
"known  to  you.  It  had  become  the  habit  of  Sir  Purcell  Bar- 
rett's mind  to  behold  himself  as  under  a  peculiarly  malign 
shadow.  Very  young  men  do  the  same,  if  they  are  much 
afflicted:  but  this  is  because  they  are  still  boys  enough  to 
have  the  natural  sense  to  be  ashamed  of  ill-luck,  even  when 
they  lack  courage  to  struggle  against  it.  The  reproaching  of 
Providence  by  a  man  of  full  growth,  comes  to  some  extent 
from  his  meanness,  and  chiefly  from  his  pride.  He  remem- 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  SENTIMENT  449 

bers  that  the  old  Gods  selected  great  heroes  whom  to  perse- 
cute, and  it  is  his  compensation  for  material  losses  to  conceive 
himself  a  distinguished  mark  for  the  Powers  of  air.  One  who 
wraps  himself  in  this  delusion  may  have  great  qualities ;  he 
cannot  be  of  a  very  contemptible  nature ;  and  in  this  place 
we  will  discriminate  more  closely  than  to  call  him  fool.  Had 
Sir  Purcell  sunk  or  bent  under  the  thong  that  pursued  him,  he 
might,  after  a  little  healthy  moaning,  have  gone  along  as  others 
do.  Who  knows  ?  —  though  a  much  persecuted  man,  he  might 
have  become  so  degraded  as  to  have  looked  forward  with 
cheerfulness  to  his  daily  dinner ;  still  despising,  if  he  pleased, 
the  soul  that  would  invent  a  sauce.  I  mean  to  say,  he  would, 
like  the  larger  body  of  our  sentimentalists,  have  acquiesced  in 
our  simple  humanity,  but  without  sacrificing  a  scruple  to  its 
grossness,  or  going  arm-in-arm  with  it  by  any  means.  Sir 
Purcell,  however,  never  sank,  and  never  bent.  He  was  in- 
variably erect  before  men,  and  he  did  not  console  himself 
with  a  murmur  in  secret.  He  had  lived  much  alone ;  eating 
alone;  thinking  alone.  To  complain  of  a  father  is,  to  a 
delicate  mind,  a  delicate  matter,  and  Sir  Purcell  was  a  gen- 
tleman to  all  about  him.  His  chief  affliction  in  his  youth, 
therefore,  kept  him  dumb.  A  gentleman  to  all  about  him, 
he  unhappily  forgot  what  was  due  to  his  own  nature.  Must 
we  not  speak  under  pressure  of  a  grief?  Little  people 
should  know  that  they  must :  but  then  the  primary  task  is 
to  teach  them  that  they  are  little  people.  For,  if  they  re- 
press the  outcry  of  a  constant  irritation,  and  the  complaint 
against  injustice,  they  lock  up  a  feeding  devil  in  their  hearts, 
and  they  must  have  vast  strength  to  crush  him  there. 
Strength  they  must  have  to  kill  him,  and  freshness  of  spirit 
to  live  without  him,  after  he  has  once  entertained  them  with 
his  most  comforting  discourses.  Have  you  listened  to  him, 
ever  ?  He  does  this :  —  he  plays  to  you  your  music  (it  is 
he  who  first  teaches  thousands  that  they  have  any  musio 
at  all,  so  guess  what  a  dear  devil  he  is !) ;  and  when  he  has 
played  this  ravishing  melody,  he  falls  to  upon  a  burlesque 
contrast  of  hurdy-gurdy  and  bag-pipe  squeal  and  bellow  and 
drone,  which  is  meant  for  the  music  of  the  world. 
sweeter  was  yours !  This  charming  devil  Sir  Purcell  had 
nursed  from  childhood. 

As  a  child,  between  a  flighty  mother  and  a  father  verging 


450  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

to  insanity  from  caprice,  he  had  grown  up  with  ideas  of 
filial  duty  perplexed,  and  with  a  fitful  love  for  either,  that 
was  not  attachment :  a  baffled  natural  love,  that  in  teaching 
us  to  brood  on  the  hardness  of  our  lot,  lays  the  foundation 
for  a  perniciously  mystical  self-love.  He  had  waxed  preco- 
ciously philosophic,  when  still  a  junior.  His  father  had 
kept  him  by  his  side,  giving  him  no  profession  beyond  that 
of  the  obedient  expectant  son  and  heir.  His  first  allusion 
to  the  youth's  dependency  had  provoked  their  first  breach, 
which  had  been  widened  by  many  an  ostentatious  forgive- 
ness on  the  one  hand,  and  a  dumbly-protesting  submission 
on  the  other.  His  mother  died  away  from  her  husband's 
roof.  The  old  man  then  sought  to  obliterate  her  utterly. 
She  left  her  boy  a  little  money,  and  the  injunction  of  his 
father  was,  that  he  was  never  to  touch  it.  He  inherited  his 
taste  for  music  from  her,  and  his  father  vowed,  that  if  ever 
he  laid  hand  upon  a  musical  instrument  again,  he  would  be 
disinherited.  All  these  signs  of  a  vehement  spiteful  antag- 
onism to  reason,  the  young  man  might  have  treated  more 
as  his  father's  misfortune  than  his  own,  if  he  could  only 
have  brought  himself  to  acknowledge  that  such  a  thing  as 
madness  stigmatized  his  family.  But  the  sentimental  mind 
conceived  it  as  '  monstrous  impiety  '  to  bring  this  accusation 
against  a  parent  who  did  not  break  windows,  or  grin  to 
deformity.  He  behaved  toward  him  as  to  a  reasonable 
person,  and  felt  the  rebellious  rancour  instead  of  the  pity. 
Thus  sentiment  came  in  the  way  of  pity.  By  degrees,  Sir 
Purcell  transferred  all  his  father's  madness  to  the  Fates  by 
whom  he  was  persecuted.  There  was  evidently  madness 
somewhere,  as  his  shuddering  human  nature  told  him.  It 
did  not  offend  his  sentiment  to  charge  this  upon  the  order  of 
the  universe. 

Against  such  a  wild-hitting  madness,  or  concentrated  ire 
of  the  superior  Powers,  Sir  Purcell  stood  up,  taking  blow 
upon  blow.  As  organist  of  Hillford  Church,  he  brushed 
his  garments,  and  put  a  polish  on  his  apparel,  with  an  ener- 
getic humility  that  looked  like  unconquerable  patience ;  as 
though  he  had  said :  "  While  life  is  left  in  me,  I  will  be 
seen  for  what  I  am."  We  will  vary  it  —  "  For  what  I  think 
myself."  In  reality,  he  fought  no  battle.  He  had  been 
dead-beaten  from  his  boyhood.  Like  the  old  Spanish  Grov- 


THE  TRAGEDY   OF  SENTIMENT  461 

ernor,  the  walls  of  whose  fortress  had  been  thrown  down 
by  an  earthquake,  and  who  painted  streets  to  deceive  the 
enemy,  he  was  rendered  safe  enough  by  his  astuteness,  ex- 
cept against  a  traitor  from  within. 

One  who  goes  on  doggedly  enduring,  doggedly  doing  his 
best,  must  subsist  on  comfort  of  a  kind  that  is  likely  to  be 
black  comfort.  The  mere  piping  of  the  musical  devil  shall 
not  suffice.  In  Sir  Purcell's  case,  it  had  long  seemed  a  mag- 
nanimity to  him  that  he  should  hold  to  a  life  so  vindictively 
scourged,  and  his  comfort  was  that  he  had  it  at  his  own  dis- 
posal. To  know  so  much,  to  suffer,  and  still  to  refrain, 
flattered  his  pride.  "The  term  of  my  misery  is  in  my 
hand,"  he  said,  softened  by  the  reflection.  It  is  our  lowest 
philosophy. 

But,  when  the  heart  of  a  man  so  fashioned  is  stirred  to  love 
a  woman,  it  has  a  new  vital  force,  new  health,  and  cannot 
play  these  solemn  pranks.  The  flesh,  and  all  its  fatality, 
claims  him.  When  Sir  Purcell  became  acquainted  with  Cor- 
nelia, he  found  the  very  woman  his  heart  desired,  or  certainly 
a  most  admirable  picture  of  her.  It  was,  perhaps,  still  more 
to  the  lady's  credit,  if  she  was  only  striving  to  be  what  he 
was  learning  to  worship.  The  beneficial  change  wrought  in 
him,  made  him  enamoured  of  healthy  thinking  and  doing. 
Had  this,  as  a  result  of  sharp  mental  overhauling,  sprung 
from  himself,  there  would  have  been  hope  for  him.  Un- 
happily, it  was  dependent  on  her  who  inspired  it  He  re- 
solved that  life  should  be  put  on  a  fresh  trial  in  her  person ; 
and  expecting  that  naturally  to  fail,  of  which  he  had  always 
entertained  a  base  conception,  he  was  perforce  brought  to 
endow  her  with  unexampled  virtues,  in  order  to  keep  any 
degree  of  confidence  tolerably  steadfast  in  his  mind.  The 
lady  accepted  the  decorations  thus  bestowed  on  her,  with 
much  grace  and  willingness.  She  consented,  little  aware  of 
her  heroism,  to  shine  forth  as  an '  ideal ; '  and  to  this  he  wan- 
tonly pinned  his  faith.  Alas  !  in  our  world,  where  all  things 
must  move,  it  becomes,  by-and-by,  manifest  that  an  '  ideal,' 
or  idol,  which  you  will,  has  not  been  gifted  with  two  legs. 
What  is,  then,  the  duty  of  the  worshipper  ?  To  make,  as  I 
should  say,  some  compromise  between  his  superstitious  rever- 
ence and  his  recognition  of  facts.  Cornelia,  on  her  pedestal, 
could  not  prefer  such  a  request  plainly ;  but  i*  -vould  hare 


452  EMILIA  IN   ENGLAND 

afforded  her  exceeding  gratification,  if  the  man  who  adored 
her  had  quietly  taken  her  up  and  fixed  her  in  a  fresh  post, 
of  his  own  choosing  entirely,  in  the  new  circles  of  changeing 
events.  Far  from  doing  that,  he  appeared  to  be  unaware 
that  they  went,  with  the  varying  days,  through  circles,  form- 
ing and  reforming.  He  walked  rather  as  a  man  down  a 
lengthened  corridor,  whose  light  to  which  he  turns  is  in  one 
favourite  corner,  visible  till  he  reaches  the  end.  What  Cor- 
nelia was,  in  the  first  flaming  of  his  imagination  around  her, 
she  was  always,  unaffected  by  circumstance,  to  remain.  It 
was  very  hard.  The  '  ideal '  did  feel  the  want  —  if  not  of 
legs  —  of  a  certain  tolerant  allowance  for  human  laws  on  the 
part  of  her  worshipper ;  but  he  was  remorselessly  reveren- 
tial, both  by  instinct  and  of  necessity.  Women  are  never 
quite  so  mad  in  sentimentalism  as  men. 

We  have  now  looked  into  the  hazy  interior  of  their  systems 
—  our  last  halt,  I  believe,  and  last  examination  of  machinery, 
before  Emilia  quits  England. 

About  the  time  of  the  pairing  of  the  birds,  and  subsequent 
to  the  Brookfield  explosion,  Cornelia  received  a  letter  from 
her  lover,  bearing  the  tone  of  a  summons.  She  was  to  meet 
him  by  the  decayed  sallow — the  '  fruitless  tree,'  as  he  termed 
it.  Startled  by  this  abruptness,  her  difficulties  made  her  take 
counsel  of  her  dignity.  "  He  knows  that  these  clandestine 
meetings  degrade  me.  He  is  wanting  in  faith,  to  require 
constant  assurances.  He  will  not  understand  my  position ! " 
She  remembered  the  day  at  Besworth,  of  which  Adela  (some- 
what needlessly,  perhaps)  had  told  her ;  that  it  had  revealed 
two  of  the  family,  in  situations  censurable  before  a  gossiping 
world,  however  intrinsically  blameless.  That  day  had  been 
to  the  ladies  a  lesson  of  deference  to  opinion.  It  was  true 
that  Cornelia  had  met  her  lover  since,  but  she  was  then 
unembarrassed.  She  had  now  to  share  in  the  duties  of  the 
household  —  duties  abnormal,  hideous,  incredible.  Her  in- 
comprehensible father  was  absent  in  town.  Daily  Wilfrid 
conducted  Adela  thither  on  mysterious  business,  and  then 
Mrs.  Chump  was  left  to  Arabella  and  herself  in  the  lonely 
house.  Numberless  things  had  to  be  said  for  the  quieting  of 
this  creature,  who  every  morning  came  downstairs  with  the 
exclamation  that  she  could  no  longer  endure  her  state  of 
uncertainty,  and  was  "  off  to  a  lawyer."  It  was  useless  to 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  SENTIMENT  453 

attempt  the  posture  of  a  reply.  Words,  and  energetic  words, 
the  woman  demanded,  not  expostulations — petitions  that  she 
would  be  respectful  to  the  house  before  the  household.  Yes, 
occasionally  (so  gross  was  she ! )  she  had  to  be  fed  with  lies. 
Arabella  and  Cornelia  heard  one  another  mouthing  these 
dreadful  things,  with  a  wretched  feeling  of  contemptuous 
compassion.  The  trial  was  renewed  daily,  and  it  was  a 
task,  almost  a  physical  task,  to  hold  the  woman  back  from 
London,  till  the  hour  of  lunch  came.  If  they  kept  her  away 
from  her  bonnet  till  then  they  were  safe. 

At  this  meal  they  had  to  drink  champagne  with  her.  Dip- 
lomatic Wilfrid  had  issued  the  order,  with  the  object,  first,  of 
dazzling  her  vision ;  and  secondly,  to  set  the  wheels  of  her 
brain  in  swift  motion.  The  effect  was  marvellous ;  and,  had 
it  not  been  for  her  determination  never  to  drink  alone,  the 
miserable  ladies  might  have  applauded  it.  Adela,  on  the  rare 
days  when  she  was  fortunate  enough  to  reach  Brookfield  in 
time  for  dinner,  was  surprised  to  hear  her  sisters  exclaim, 
"  Oh,  the  hatefulness  of  that  champagne ! "  She  enjoyed  it 
extremely.  She,  poor  thing,  had  again  to  go  through  a  round 
of  cabs  and  confectioners'  shops  in  London.  "  If  they  had 
said, <  Oh,  the  hatefulness  of  those  buns  and  cold  chickens ! '  * 
she  thought  to  herself.  Not  objecting  to  champagne  at  lunch 
with  any  particular  vehemence,  she  was  the  less  unwilling  to 
tell  her  sisters  what  she  had  to  do  for  Wilfrid  daily. 

"  Three  times  a  week  I  go  to  see  Emilia  at  Lady  Gosstre's 
town-house.  Mr.  Powys  has  gone  to  Italy,  and  Miss  Ford 
remains,  looking,  if  I  can  read  her,  such  a  temper.  On  the 
other  days  I  am  taken  by  Wilfrid  to  the  arcades,  or  we  hire 
a  brougham  to  drive  round  the  park,  —  for  nothing  but  the 
chance  of  seeing  that  girl  an  instant.  Don't  tell  me  it's  to 
meet  Lady  Charlotte !  That  lovely  and  obliging  person  i 
is  certainly  not  my  duty  to  undeceive.  She's  now  at  Storn- 
ley,  and  speaks  of  our  affairs  to  everybody,  I  dare  say.  Twice 
a  week  Wilfrid  — oh!  quite  casually !  — calls  on  Miss  Ford, 
and  is  gratified,  I  suppose ;  for  this  is  the  picture : 
sits  Emilia,  one  finger  in  her  cheek,  and  the  thumb  under 
her  chin,  and  she  keeps  looking  down  so.  Opposite  »»  Misa 
Ford,  doing  some  work  —  making  lint  for  patriots,  probably. 
Then  Wilfrid,  addressing  commonplaces  to  her;  and 
Emilia's  father  —  a  personage,  I  assure  you!  up  against  the 


454  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

window,  with  a  violin.  I  feel  a  bitter  edge  on  my  teeth  still ! 
What  do  you  think  he  does  to  please  his  daughter  for  one 
whole  hour  ?  He  draws  his  fingers  —  does  nothing  else ;  she 
won't  let  him ;  she  won't  hear  a  tune — up  the  strings  in  the 
most  horrible  caterwaul,  up  and  down.  It  is  really  like  a 
thousand  lunatics  questioning  and  answering,  and  is  enough 
to  make  you  mad ;  but  there  that  girl  sits,  listening.  Ex- 
actly in  this  attitude  —  so.  She  scarcely  ever  looks  up. 
My  brother  talks,  and  occasionally  steals  a  glance  that  way. 
We  passed  one  whole  hour  as  I  have  described.  In  the 
middle  of  it,  I  happened  to  look  at  Wilfrid's  face,  while  the 
violin  was  wailing  down.  I  fancied  I  heard  the  despair  of 
one  of  those  huge  masks  in  a  pantomime.  I  was  almost 
choked." 

When  Adela  had  related  thus  much,  she  had  to  prevent 
downright  revolt,  and  spoil  her  own  game,  by  stating  that 
Wilfrid  did  not  leave  the  house  for  his  special  pleasure,  and 
a  word,  as  to  the  efforts  he  was  making  to  see  Mr.  Pericles, 
convinced  the  ladies  that  his  situation  was  as  pitiable  as 
their  own. 

Cornelia  refused  to  obey  her  lover's  mandate,  and  wrote 
briefly.  She  would  not  condescend  to  allude  to  the  unutter- 
able wretchedness  afflicting  her,  but  spoke  of  her  duty  to 
her  father  being  foremost  in  her  prayers  for  strength.  Sir 
Purcell  interpreted  this  as  indicating  the  beginning  of  their 
alienation.  He  chided  her  gravely  in  an  otherwise  pleasant 
letter.  She  was  wrong  to  base  her  whole  reply  upon  the 
little  sentence  of  reproach,  but  self-justification  was  neces- 
sary to  her  spirit.  Indeed,  an  involuntary  comparison  of  her 
two  suitors  was  forced  on  her,  and,  dry  as  was  Sir  Twicken- 
ham's mind,  she  could  not  but  acknowledge  that  he  had  be- 
haved with  an  extraordinary  courtesy,  amounting  to  chivalry, 
in  his  suit.  On  two  occasions  he  had  declined  to  let  her  be 
pressed  to  decide.  He  came  to  the  house,  and  went,  like  an 
ordinary  visitor.  She  was  indebted  to  him  for  that  splendid 
luxury  of  indecision,  which  so  few  of  the  maids  of  earth 
enjoy  for  a  lengthened  term.  The  rude  shakings  given  her 
by  Sir  Purcell,  at  a  time  when  she  needed  all  her  power  of 
dreaming,  to  siipport  the  horror  of  accumulated  facts,  was 
almost  resented.  "  He  as  much  as  says  he  doubts  me,  when 
this  is  what  I  endure ! "  she  cried  to  herself,  as  Mrs.  Chump 


THE  TRAGEDY   OF   SENTIMENT  -1  .">."> 

ordered  her  champagne-glass  to  be  filled,  with  "  Now,  Cor- 
nelia, my  dear ;  if  it's  bad  luck  we're  in  for,  there's  nothin' 
cheats  ut  like  champagne,"  and  she  had  to  put  the  (to  her) 
nauseous  bubbles  to  her  lips.  Sir  Purcell  had  not  been  told 
of  her  tribulations,  and  he  had  not  expressed  any  doubt  of 
her  truth;  but  sentimentalists  can  read  one  another  with 
peculiar  accuracy  through  their  bewitching  gauzes.  She  read 
his  unwritten  doubt,  and  therefore  expected  her  unwritten 
misery  to  be  read. 

So  it  is  when  you  play  at  Life !  When  you  will  not  go 
straight,  you  get  into  this  twisting  maze.  Now  he  wrote 
coldly,  and  she  had  to  repress  a  feeling  of  resentment  at 
that  also.  She  ascribed  the  changes  of  his  tone  fundament- 
ally to  want  of  faith  in  her,  and  absolutely,  during  the  strug- 
gle she  underwent,  she  by  this  means  somehow  strengthened 
her  idea  of  her  own  faithfulness.  She  would  have  phrased 
her  projected  line  of  conduct  thus :  "  I  owe  every  appearance 
of  assent  to  my  poor  father's  scheme,  that  will  spare  his  health. 
I  owe  him  everything,  save  the  positive  sacrifice  of  my  hand." 
In  fact,  she  meant  to  do  her  duty  to  her  father  up  to  the  last 
moment,  and  then,  on  the  extreme  verge,  to  remember  her 
duty  to  her  lover.  But  she  could  not  write  it  down,  and  tell 
her  lover  as  much.  She  knew  instinctively  that,  facing  the 
eyes,  it  would  not  look  well.  Perhaps,  at  another  season,  she 
would  have  acted  and  thought  with  less  folly ;  but  the  dull 
pain  of  her  great  uncertainty,  and  the  little  stinging  whips 
daily  applied  to  her,  exaggerated  her  tendency  to  self-decep- 
tion. "  Who  has  ever  had  to  bear  so  much  ?  —  what  slave  ? 
she  would  exclaim,  as  a  refuge  from  the  edge  of  his  veiled 
irony.  For  a  slave  has,  if  not  selection  of  what  he  will  eat 
and  drink,  the  option  of  rejecting  what  is  distasteful.  Cor- 
nelia had  not.  She  had  to  act  a  part  every  day  with  Mrs. 
Chump,  while  all  those  she  loved,  and  respected,  and  clung 
to,  were  in  the  same  conspiracy.  The  consolation  of  hating, 
or  of  despising,  her  tormentress  was  denied.  The  thought 
that  the  poor  helpless  creature  had  been  possibly  ruined  by 
them,  chastened  Cornelia's  reflections  mightily,  and  taaghfc 
her  to  walk  very  humbly  through  the  duties  of  theday. 
Her  powers  of  endurance  were  stretched  to  their  utmost 
A  sublime  affliction  would,  as  she  felt  bitterly,  have  enlarged 
her  soul.  This  sordid  misery  narrowed  it  Why  did  not 


456  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

her  lover,  if  his  love  was  passionate,  himself  cut  the  knot  — 
claim  her,  and  put  her  to  a  quick  decision  ?  She  conceived 
that  were  he  to  bring  on  a  supreme  crisis,  her  heart  would 
declare  itself.  But  he  appeared  to  be  wanting  in  that  form  of 
courage.  Does  it  become  a  beggar  to  act  such  valiant  parts  ? 
perhaps  he  was  even  then  replying  from  his  stuffy  lodgings. 

The  Spring  was  putting  out  primroses,  —  the  first  hand- 
writing of  the  year,  —  as  Sir  Purcell  wrote  to  her  prettily. 
Desire  for  fresh  air,  and  the  neighbourhood  of  his  beloved, 
sent  him  on  a  journey  down  to  Hillford.  Near  the  gates  of 
the  Hillford  station,-  he  passed  Wilfrid  and  Adela,  hurrying 
to  catch  the  up-train,  and  received  no  recognition.  His 
face  scarcely  changed  colour,  but  the  birds  on  a  sudden 
seemed  to  pipe  far  away  from  him.  He  asked  himself, 
presently,  what  were  those  black  circular  spots  which  flew 
chasing  along  the  meadows  and  the  lighted  walks.  It  was 
with  an  effort  that  he  got  the  landscape  close  about  his  eyes, 
and  remembered  familiar  places.  He  walked  all  day,  making 
occupation  by  directing  his  steps  to  divers  eminences  that 
gave  a  view  of  the  Brookfield  chimneys.  After  night-fall 
he  found  himself  in  the  firwood,  approaching  the  (  fruitless 
tree.'  He  had  leaned  against  it  musingly,  for  a  time,  when 
he  heard  voices,  as  of  a  couple  confident  in  their  privacy. 

The  footman,  Gainsford,  was  courting  a  maid  of  the  Tin- 
ley's,  and  here,  being  midway  between  the  two  houses,  they 
met.  He  had  to  obtain  pardon  for  tardiness,  by  saying  that 
dinner  at  Brookfield  had  been  delayed  for  the  return  of  Mr. 
Pole.  The  damsel's  questions  showed  her  far  advanced  in 
knowledge  of  affairs  at  Brookfield,  and  may  account  for 
Laura  Tinley's  gatherings  of  latest  intelligence  concerning 
those  '  odd  girls,'  as  she  impudently  called  the  three. 

"Oh!  don't  you  listen!"  was  the  comment  pronounced 
on  Gainsford's  stock  of  information.  But,  he  told  nothing 
signally  new.  She  wished  to  hear  something  new  and 
striking,  "  because,"  she  said,  "  when  I  unpin  Miss  Laura  at 
night,  "  I'm  as  likely  as  not  to  get  a  silk  dress  that  ain't 
been  worn  more  than  half-a-dozen  times  —  if  I  manage. 
When  I  told  her  that  Mr.  Albert,  her  brother,  had  dined  at 
your  place  last  Thursday  —  demeaning  of  himself,  I  do  think 
—  there !  —  I  got  a  pair  of  silk  stockings,  —  not  letting  her 
see  I  knew  what  it  was  for,  of  course!  and  about  Mrs.  Dump, 


THE  TRAGEDY  OP  SENTIMENT  467 

—  Stump ; — I  can't  recollect  the  woman's  name ;  and  her  call- 
ing of  your  master  a  bankrupt,  right  out,  and  wanting  her 
money  of  him,  —there !  if  Miss  Laura  didn't  give  me  a  pair 
of  lavender  kid-gloves  out  of  her  box !  —  and  I  wish  you 
would  leave  my  hands  alone,  when  you  know  I  shouldn't  be  to 
silly  as  to  wear  them  in  the  dark;  and  for  you,  indeed! " 

But  Gainsford  persisted,  upon  which  there  was  fooling. 
All  this  was  too  childish  for  Sir  Purcell  to  think  it  necessary 
to  give  warning  of  his  presence.  They  passed,  and  when 
they  had  gone  a  short  way  the  damsel  cried,  "  Well,  that  is 
something,"  and  stopped.  "  Married  in  a  month ! "  she  ex- 
claimed.  "  And  you  don't  know  which  one  ?  " 

"  No,"  returned  Gainsford ;  "  master  said  '  one  of  you '  as 
they  was  at  dinner,  just  as  I  come  into  the  room.  He  was 
in  jolly  spirits,  and  kept  going  so:  'What's  a  month!  — 
champagne,  Gainsford,'  and  you  should  have  seen  Mrs.  — 
not  Stump,  but  Chump.  She'll  be  tipsy  to-night,  and  I  shall 
bust  if  I  have  to  carry  of  her  upstairs.  Well,  she  is  fun !  — 
she  don't  mind  handin'  you  a  five-shilling  piece  when  she's 
done  tender :  but  I  have  nearly  lost  my  place  two  or  three 
time  along  of  that  woman.  She'd  split  logs  with  laughing: 
— no  need  of  beetle  and  wedges  !  'Och!'  she  sings  out,  'by 
the  piper ! '  —  and  Miss  Cornelia  sitting  there  —  and, '  Ar rah ! ' 

—  bother  the  woman's  Irish,"  (thus  Gainsford  gave  up  the 
effort  at  imitation,  with  a  spirited  Briton's  mild  contempt 
for  what  he  could  not  do)  "  she  pointed  out  Miss  Cornelia 
and  said  she  was  like  the  tinker's  dog :  —  there's  the  bone 
he  wants  himself,  and  the  bone  he  don't  want  anybody  else 
to  have.     Aha !  ain't  it  good  ?  " 

"Oh!  the  tinker's  dog !  won't  I  remember  that! "  said  the 
damsel,  "  she  can't  be  such  a  fool." 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  Gainsford  meditated  critically. 
"  She  is  ;  and  yet  she  ain't,  if  you  understand  me.  What  I 
feel  about  her  is  —  hang  it !  she  makes  ye  laugh." 

Sir  Purcell  moved  from  the  shadow  of  the  tree  as  noise- 
lessly as  he  could,  so  that  this  enamoured  couple  might  not 
be  disturbed.  He  had  already  heard  more  than  he  quite 
excused  himself  for  hearing  in  such  a  manner,  and  having 
decided  not  to  arrest  the  man  and  make  him  relate  ««ctjr 
what  Mr.  Pole  had  spoken  that  evening  at  the  Brookfield 
dinner-table,  he  hurried  on  his  return  to  town. 


458  JT.MTT.TA    IN  ENGLAND 

It  was  not  till  he  had  sight  of  his  poor  home ;  the  solitary 
company  of  chairs;  the  sofa  looking  bony  and  comfortless 
as  an  old  female  house  drudge ;  the  table  with  his  desk  on 
it;  and,  through  folding-doors,  his  cold  and  narrow  bed; 
not  till  then  did  the  fact  of  his  great  loss  stand  before  him, 
and  accuse  him  of  living.  He  seated  himself  methodically 
and  wrote  to  Cornelia.  His  fancy  pictured  her  now  as  sharp 
to  every  turn  of  language  and  fall  of  periods :  and  to  satisfy 
his  imagined,  rigorous  critic,  he  wrote  much  in  the  style  of 
a  newspaper  leading  article.  No  one  would  have  thought 
that  tragic  meaning  underlay  those  choice  and  sounding 
phrases.  On  reperusing  the  composition,  he  rejected  it, 
but  only  to  produce  one  of  a  similar  cast.  He  could  not  get 
to  nature  in  his  tone.  He  spoke  aloud  a  little  sentence  now 
and  then,  that  had  the  ring  of  a  despairing  tenderness. 
Nothing  of  the  sort  inhabited  his  written  words,  wherein  a 
strained  philosophy  and  ironic  resignation  went  on  stilts. 
"  I  should  desire  to  see  you  once  before  I  take  a  step  that 
some  have  not  considered  more  than  commonly  serious," 
came  toward  the  conclusion ;  and  the  idea  was  toyed  with 
till  he  signed  his  name.  "A  plunge  into  the  deep  is  of 
little  moment  to  one  who  has  been  stripped  of  all  clothing. 
Is  he  not  a  wretch  who  stands  and  shivers  still  ?  "  This 
letter,  ending  with  a  short  and  not  imperious,  or  even  urgent, 
request  for  an  interview,  on  the  morrow  by  the  '  fruitless 
tree,'  he  sealed  for  delivery  into  Cornelia's  hands  some  hours 
before  the  time  appointed.  He  then  wrote  a  clear  business 
letter  to  his  lawyer,  and  one  of  studied  ambiguity  to  a  cousin 
on  his  mother's  side.  His  father's  brother,  Percival  Barrett, 
to  whom  the  estates  had  gone,  had  offered  him  an  annuity 
of  five  hundred  pounds :  "  though  he  had,  as  his  nephew  was 
aware,  a  large  family."  Sir  Purcell  had  replied:  ''  Let  me 
be  the  first  to  consider  your  family,"  rejecting  the  benevo- 
lence. He  now  addressed  his  cousin,  saying:  "What  would 
you  think  of  one  who  accepts  such  a  gift  ?  —  of  me,  were 
you  to  hear  that  I  had  bowed  my  head  and  extended  my 
hand  ?  Think  this,  if  ever  you  hear  of  it :  that  I  have  ac- 
ceded for  the  sake  of  winning  the  highest  prize  humanity 
can  bestow:  that  I  certainly  would  not  have  done  it  for 
aught  less  than  the  highest."  After  that  he  went  to  his 
narrow  bed.  His  determination  was  to  write  to  his  uncle. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  SENTIMENT  459 

swallowing  bitter  pride,  and  to  live  a  pensioner,  if  only  Cor- 
nelia  came  to  her  tryst,  "  the  last  he  would  ask  of  her,"  aa 
he  told  her.  Once  face  to  face  with  his  beloved,  he  had  no 
doubt  of  his  power;  and  this  feeling  which  he  knew  her  to 
share,  made  her  reluctance  to  meet  him  more  darkly  suspi- 
cious. 

As  he  lay  in  the  little  black  room,  he  thought  of  how  she 
would  look  when  a  bride,  and  of  the  peerless  beauty  tower- 
ing over  any  shades  of  earthliness  which  she  would  present 
His  heated  fancy  conjured  up  every  device  and  charm  of 
sacredness  and  adoring  rapture  about  that  white  veiled  shape, 
until  her  march  to  the  altar  assumed  the  character  of  a  reli- 
gious procession  —  a  sight  to  awe  mankind!  And  where, 
when  she  stood  before  the  minister  in  her  saintly  humility, 
grave  and  white,  and  tall  —  where  was  the  man  whose  heart 
was  now  racing  for  that  goal  at  her  right  hand  ?  He  felt 
at  the  troubled  heart  and  touched  two  fingers  on  the  rib, 
mock-quietingly,  and  smiled.  Then  with  great  deliberation 
he  rose,  lit  a  candle,  unlocked  a  case  of  pocket-pistols,  and 
loaded  them :  but  a  second  idea  coming  into  his  head,  he 
drew  the  bullet  out  of  one,  and  lay  down  again  with  a  luxu- 
rious speculation  on  the  choice  any  hand  might  possibly 
make  of  the  life-sparing  or  death-giving  of  those  two  weap- 
ons. In  his  next  half-slumber  he  was  twice  startled  by  a 
report  of  fire-arms  in  a  church,  when  a  crowd  of  veiled 
women  and  masked  men  rushed  to  the  opening,  and  a  woman 
throwing  up  the  veil  from  her  face  knelt  to  a  corpse  that  she 
lifted  without  effort,  and  weeping,  laid  it  in  a  grave,  where 
it  rested  and  was  at  peace,  though  multitudes  hurried  over 
it,  and  new  stars  came  and  went,  and  the  winds  were  strange 
with  new  tongues.  The  sleeper  saw  the  morning  upon  that 
corpse  when  light  struck  his  eyelids,  and  he  awoke  like  m 
man  who  knew  no  care. 

His  landlady's  little  female  scrubber  was  working  at  the 
grate  in  his  sitting-room.  He  had  endured  many  a  struggle 
to  prevent  service  of  this  nature  being  done  for  him  by  one 
of  the  sex  —  at  least,  to  prevent  it  within  his  hearing  and 
sight.  He  called  to  her  to  desist ;  but  she  replied  that  she 
had  her  mistress's  orders.  Thereupon  he  maintained  that 
the  grate  did  not  want  scrubbing.  The  girl  took  this  to  be 
a  matter  of  opinion,  not  a  challenge  to  controversy,  and  COB- 


4bO  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

timied  her  work  in  silence.  Irritated  by  the  noise,  but  anxious 
not  to  seem  harsh,  he  said :  "  What  on  earth  are  you  about, 
when  there  was  no  fire  there  yesterday  ?  " 

"  There  ain't  no  stuff  for  a  fire  now,  sir,"  said  she. 

"  I  tell  you  I  did  not  light  it." 

"  It's  been  and  lit  itself  then,"  she  mumbled. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  found  the  fire  burnt  out,  when 
you  entered  the  room  this  morning  ?  " 

She  answered  that  she  had  found  it  so,  and  lots  of  burnt 
paper  lying  about. 

The  symbolism  of  this  fire  burnt  out,  that  had  warmed 
and  cheered  none,  oppressed  his  fancy,  and  he  left  the  small 
maid-of-all-work  to  triumph  with  black-lead  and  brushes. 

She  sang  out,  when  she  had  done :  "  If  you  please,  sir, 
missus  have  had  a  hamper  up  from  the  country,  and  would 
you  like  a  country  aig,  which  is  quite  fresh,  and  new  lay. 
And  missus  say,  she  can't  trust  the  bloaters  about  here  bein' 
Yarmouth,  but  there's  a  soft  roe  in  one  she've  squeezed ;  and 
am  I  to  stop  a  water-cress  woman,  when  the  last  one  sold  you 
them,  and  all  the  leaves  jellied  behind  'em,  so  as  no  washin' 
sould  save  you  from  swallowin'  some,  missus  say  ?  " 

Sir  Purcell  rolled  over  on  his  side.  "  Is  this  going  to  be 
my  epitaph  ?  "  he  groaned ;  for  he  was  not  a  man  particular 
in  his  diet,  or  exacting  in  choice  of  roes,  or  panting  for  fresh- 
ness in  an  egg.  He  wondered  what  his  landlady  could  mean 
by  sending  up  to  him,  that  morning  of  all  others,  to  tempt 
his  appetite  after  her  fashion.  "  I  thought  I  remembered 
eating  nothing  but  toast  in  this  place ; "  he  observed  to  him- 
self. A  grunting  answer  had  to  be  given  to  the  little  maid, 
"  Toast  as  usual."  She  appeared  satisfied,  but  returned 
again,  when  he  was  in  his  bath,  to  ask  whether  he  had  said 
"  No  toast  to-day  ?  " 

"  Toast  till  the  day  of  my  death  —  tell  your  mistress  that ! " 
he  replied ;  and  partly  from  shame  at  his  unaccountable 
vehemence,  he  paused  in  his  sponging,  meditated,  and  chilled. 
An  association  of  toast  with  spectral  things  grew  in  his  mind, 
when  presently  the  girl's  voice  was  heard :  "  Please,  sir,  you 
did  say  you'd  have  toast,  or  not,  this  morning  ?  "  It  cost  him 
an  effort  to  answer  simply,  "  Yes." 

That  she  should  continue,  "  Not  sir  ?  "  appeared  like  per- 
versity. "  No  aig  ?  "  was  maddening. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  SENTIMENT  401 

«  Well,  no ;  never  inind  it  this  morning,"  said  he. 

"  Not  this  morning,"  she  repeated. 

'  Then  it  will  not  be  till  the  day  of  your  death,  as  yon  said,' 
she  is  thinking  that,  was  the  idea  running  in  his  brain,  and 
he  was  half  ready  to  cry  out "  Stop,"  and  renew  his  order  for 
toast,  that  he  might  seem  consecutive.  The  childishness  of 
the  wish  made  him  ask  himself  what  it  mattered.  "  I  said 
'  Not  till  the  day ; '  so,  none  to-day  would  mean  that  I  have 
reached  the  day."  Shivering  with  the  wet  on  his  pallid  skin, 
he  thought  this  over. 

His  landlady  had  used  her  discretion,  and  there  was  toast 
on  the  table.  A  beam  of  Spring's  morning  sunlight  illumi- 
nated the  toast-rack.  He  sat,  and  ate,  and  munched  the  doubt 
whether  "  not  till "  included  the  final  day,  or  stopped  short  of 
it.  By  this  the  state  of  his  brain  may  be  conceived.  A 
longing  for  beauty,  and  a  dark  sense  of  an  incapacity  tc 
thoroughly  enjoy  it,  tormented  him.  He  sent  for  his  land- 
lady's canary,  and  the  ready  shrill  song  of  the  bird  persuaded 
him  that  much  of  the  charm  of  music  is  wilfully  swelled  by 
ourselves,  and  can  be  by  ourselves  withdrawn  :  that  is  to  say, 
the  great  charm  and  spell  of  sweet  sounds  is  assisted  by  th€ 
force  of  our  imaginations.  What  is  that  force  ?  —  the  heat 
and  torrent  of  the  blood.  When  that  exists  no  more  —  to 
one  without  hope,  for  instance — what  is  music  or  beauty? 
Intrinsically,  they  are  next  to  nothing.  He  argued  it  out  so, 
and  convinced  himself  of  his  own  delusions,  till  his  hand, 
being  in  the  sunlight,  gave  him  a  pleasant  warmth.  "  That's 
something  we  all  love,"  he  said,  glancing  at  the  blue  sky  above 
the  roofs.  "  But  there's  little  enough  of  it  in  this  climate," 
he  thought,  with  an  eye  upon  the  darker  corners  of  his  room. 
When  he  had  eaten,  he  sent  word  to  his  landlady  to  make  up 
his  week's  bill.  The  week  was  not  at  an  end,  and  that  good 
woman  appeared  before  him,  astonished,  saying :  "  To  be 
sure,  your  habits  is  regular,  but  there's  little  items  one  can't 
guess  at,  and  how  make  out  a  bill,  Sir  Purcy,  and  no 
items  ?  " 

He  nodded  his  head. 

"  The  country  again  ?  "  she  asked  smilingly. 

"  I  am  going  down  there,"  he  said. 

"  And  beautiful  at  this  time  of  the  year,  it  is !  though,  fc 
market  gardening,  London  beats  any  country  I  ever  knew ;  and 


462  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

if  you  like  creature  comforts,  I  always  say,  stop  in  London ! 
And  then  the  policemen !  who  really  are  the  greatest  comfort 
of  all  to  us  poor  women,  and  seem  sent  from  above  especially 
to  protect  our  weakness.  I  do  assure  you,  Sir  Purcy,  I  feel 
it,  and  never  knew  a  right-minded  woman  that  did  not.  And 
how  on  earth  our  grandmothers  contrived  to  get  about  with- 
out them  !  But  there  !  people  who  lived  before  us  do  seem 
like  the  most  wracomf ortable !  When  —  my  goodness!  we 
come  to  think  there  was  some  lived  before  tea !  Why,  as 
I  say  over  almost  every  cup  I  drink,  it  ain't  to  be  realized. 
It  seems  almost  wicked  to  say  it,  Sir  Purcy;  but  it's  my 
opinion  there  ain't  a  Christian  woman  who's  not  made  more 
of  a  Christian  through  her  tea.  And  a  man  who  beats  his 
wife  —  my  first  question  is,  '  Do  he  take  his  tea  regular  ? ' 
For,  depend  upon  it,  that  man  is  not  a  tea-drinker  at  all." 

He  let  her  talk  away,  feeling  oddly  pleased  by  this  mun- 
dane chatter,  as  was  she  to  pour  forth  her  inmost  sentiments 
to  a  baronet. 

When  she  said:  "Your  fire  shall  be  lighted  to-night  to 
welcome  you,"  the  man  looked  up,  and  was  going  to  request 
that  the  trouble  might  be  spared,  but  he  nodded.  His  ghost 
saw  the  burning  fire  awaiting  him.  Or  how  if  it  sparkled 
merrily,  and  he  beheld  it  with  his  human  eyes  that  night  ? 
His  beloved  would  then  have  touched  him  with  her  hand  — 
yea,  brought  the  dead  to  life !  He  jumped  to  his  feet,  and 
dismissed  the  worthy  dame.  On  both  sides  of  him,  *  Yes/ 
and  '  No,'  seemed  pressing  like  two  hostile  powers  that  bat- 
tled for  his  body.  They  shrieked  in  his  ears,  plucked  at  his 
fingers.  He  heard  them  hushing  deeply  as  he  went  to  his 
pistol-case,  and  drew  forth  one  —  he  knew  not  which. 


CHAPTER  LVI 

AN   ADVANCE   AND    A    CHECK 

ON  a  wild  April  morning,  Emilia  rose  from  her  bed  and 
called  to  mind  a  day  of  the  last  year's  Spring  when  she  had 
watched  the  cloud  streaming  up,  and  felt  that  it  was  the 
curtain  of  an  unknown  glory.  But  now  it  wore  the  aspect 


AN  ADVANCE   AND   A   CHECK 

of  her  life  itself,  with  nothing  hidden  behind  those  stormy 
folds,  save  peace.  South-westward  she  gazed,  eyeing  eagerly 
the  struggle  of  twisting  vapour ;  long  flying  edges  of  silver 
went  by,  and  mounds  of  faint  crimson,  and  here  and  there 
a  closing  space  of  blue,  swift  as  a  thought  of  home  to  a 
soldier  in  action.  The  heavens  were  like  a  battle-field. 
Emilia  shut  her  lips  hard,  to  check  an  impulse  of  prayer 
for  Merthyr  fighting  in  Italy :  for  he  was  in  Italy,  and  she 
once  more  among  the  Monmouth  hills :  he  was  in  Italy  fight- 
ing, and  she  chained  here  to  her  miserable  promise !  Three 
days  after  she  had  given  the  promise  to  Wilfrid,  Merthyr 
left,  shaking  her  hand  like  any  common  friend.  Georgian  r. 
remained,  by  his  desire,  to  protect  her.  Emilia  had  written 
to  Wilfrid  for  release,  but  being  no  apt  letter-writer,  and 
hating  the  task,  she  was  soon  involved  by  him  in  a  compli- 
cation of  bewildering  sentiments,  some  of  which  she  sup- 
posed she  was  bound  to  feel,  while  perhaps  one  or  two  she 
did  feel,  at  the  summons.  The  effect  was  that  she  lost  the 
true  wording  of  her  blunt  petition  for  release :  she  could  no 
longer  put  it  bluntly.  But  her  heart  revolted  the  more,  and 
gave  her  sharp  eyes  to  see  into  his  selfishness.  The  purga- 
tory of  her  days  with  Georgiana,  when  the  latter  was  kept 
back  from  her  brother  in  his  peril,  spurred  Emilia  to  renew 
her  appeal ;  but  she  found  that  all  she  said  drew  her  into 
unexpected  traps  and  pitfalls.  There  was  only  one  thing 
she  could  say  plainly:  "I  want  to  go."  If  she  repeated 
this,  Wilfrid  was  ready  with  citations  from  her  letters, 
wherein  she  had  said  'this/  and  'that,'  and  many  other 
phrases.  His  epistolary  power  and  skill  in  arguing  his  own 
case  were  creditable  to  him.  Affected  as  Emilia  was  by 
other  sensations,  she  could  not  combat  the  idea  strenuously 
suggested  by  him,  that  he  had  reason  to  complain  of  her 
behaviour.  He  admitted  his  special  faults,  but,  by  distinctly 
tracing  them  to  their  origin,  he  complacently  hinted  the 
excuse  for  them.  Moreover,  and  with  artistic  ability,  he 
painted  such  a  sentimental  halo  round  the  'sacredness  of 
her  pledged  word,'  that  Emilia  could  not  resist  a  supersti- 
tious notion  about  it,  and  about  what  the  breaking  of 
would  imply.  Georgiana  had  removed  her  down  to  > 
mouth  to  be  out  of  his  way.  A  constant  flight  of  letters 
pursued  them  both,  for  Wilfrid  was  far  too  clever  to  allow 


464  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

letters  in  his  hand-writing  to  come  for  one  alone  of  two 
women  shut  up  in  a  country-house  together.  He  saw  how 
the  letterless  one  would  sit  speculating  shrewdly  and  spite- 
fully; so  he  was  careful  to  amuse  his  mystified  Dragon, 
while  he  drew  nearer  and  nearer  to  his  gold  apple.  An- 
other object  was,  that  by  getting  Georgiana  to  consent  to 
become  in  part  his  confidante,  he  made  it  almost  a  point  of 
honour  for  her  to  be  secret  with  Lady  Charlotte. 

At  last  a  morning  came  with  no  Brookfield  letter  for  either 
of  them.  The  letters  stopped  from  that  time.  It  was  almost 
as  if  a  great  buzzing  had  ceased  in  Emilia's  ears,  and  she 
now  heard  her  own  sensations  clearly.  To  Georgiana's  sur- 
prise, she  manifested  no  apprehension  or  regret.  "  Or  else," 
the  lady  thought,  "  she  wears  a  mask  to  me ; "  and  certainly 
it  was  a  pale  face  that  Emilia  was  beginning  to  wear.  At 
last  came  April  and  its  wild  morning.  No  little  female 
hypocrisies  passed  between  them  when  they  met ;  they  shook 
hands  at  arm's  length  by  the  breakfast-table.  Then  Emilia 
said :  "  I  am  ready  to  go  to  Italy  :  I  will  go  at  once." 

Georgiana  looked  straight  at  her,  thinking :  "  This  is  a  fit 
of  indignation  with  Wilfrid."  She  answered :  "  Italy !  I 
fancied  you  had  forgotten  there  was  such  a  country." 

"  I  don't  forget  my  country  and  my  friends,"  said  Emilia. 

"  At  least,  I  must  ask  the  ground  of  so  unexpected  a  reso- 
lution," was  rejoined. 

"  Do  you  remember  what  Merthyr  wrote  in  his  letter  from 
Arona  ?  How  long  it  takes  to  understand  the  meaning  of 
some  words !  He  says  that  I  should  not  follow  an  impulse 
that  is  not  the  impulse  of  all  my  nature  —  myself  altogether. 
Yes  !  I  know  what  that  means  now.  And  he  tells  me  that 
my  life  is  worth  more  than  to  be  bound  to  the  pledge  of  a 
silly  moment.  It  is !  He,  Georgey,  unkind  that  you  are  !  — 
he  does  not  distrust  me ;  but  always  advises  and  helps  me : 
Merthyr  waits  for  me.  I  cannot  be  instantly  ready  for  every 
meaning  in  the  world.  What  I  want  to  do,  is  to  see  Wil- 
frid: if  not,  I  will  write  to  him.  I  will  tell  him  that  I 
intend  to  break  my  promise." 

A  light  of  unaffected  pride  shone  from  the  girl's  face,  as 
she  threw  down  this  gauntlet  to  sentimentalism. 

"  And  if  he  objects  ?  "  said  Georgiana. 

"  If  he  objects,  what  can  happen  ?     If  he  objects  by  letter, 


AN  ADVANCE  AND  A   CHECK 

I  am  gone.  I  shall  not  write  for  permission.  I  shall  writ* 
what  my  will  is.  If  I  see  him,  and  he  objects,  I  can  look 
into  his  eyes  and  say  what  I  think  right  Why,  I  have  lived 
like  a  frozen  thing  ever  since  I  gave  him  my  word.  I  have 
felt  at  times  like  a  snake  hissing  at  my  folly.  I  think  I  have 
felt  something  like  men  when  they  swear." 

Georgiana's  features  expressed  a  slight  but  perceptible 
disgust.  Emilia  continued  humbly :  "  Forgive  me.  I  wish 
you  to  know  how  I  hate  the  word  I  gave  that  separates  me 
from  Merthyr  in  my  Italy,  and  makes  you  dislike  your  poor 
Emilia.  You  do.  I  have  pardoned  it,  though  it  was  twenty 
stabs  a  day." 

"  But,  why,  if  this  promise  was  so  hateful  to  you,  did  you 
not  break  it  before  ?  "  asked  Georgians 

"  I  had  not  the  courage,"  Emilia  stooped  her  head  to  con- 
fess ;  "  and  besides,"  she  added,  curiously  half-closing  her 
eyelids,  as  one  does  to  look  on  a  minute  object, "  I  could  not 
see  through  it  before." 

"If,"  suggested  Georgiana,  "you  break  your  word,  you 
release  him  from  his." 

"No!  if  he  cannot  see  the  difference,"  cried  Emilia, 
wildly,  "then  let  him  keep  away  from  me  for  ever,  and 
he  shall  not  have  the  name  of  friend !  Is  there  no  differ- 
ence —  I  wish  you  would  let  me  cry  out  as  they  do  in  Shake- 
speare, Georgey  ! "  Emilia  laughed  to  cover  her  vehemence. 
"  I  want  something  more  than  our  way  of  talking,  to  witness 
that  there  is  such  a  difference  between  us.  Am  I  to  live 
here  till  all  my  feelings  are  burnt  out,  and  my  very  soul  is 
only  a  spark  in  a  log  of  old  wood  ?  and  to  keep  him  from 
murdering  my  countrymen,  or  flogging  the  women  of  Italy  ! 
God  knows  what  those  Austrians  would  make  him  do.  He 
changes.  He  would  easily  become  an  Austrian.  I  have 
heard  him  once  or  twice,  and  if  I  had  shut  my  eyes,  I  might 
have  declared  an  Austrian  spoke.  I  wanted  to  keep  him 
here,  but  it  is  not  right  that  I  —  I  should  be  caged  till  I 
scarcely  feel  my  finger-ends,  or  know  that  I  breathe  sensibly 
as  you  and  others  do.  I  am  with  Merthyr.  That  is  what  I 
intend  to  tell  him." 

She  smiled  softly  up  to  Georgiana's  cold  eyes,  to  get  a 
look  of  forgiveness  for  her  fiery  speaking. 

"So,  then,  you  love  my  brother  ?  "  said  Georgiana. 


466  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

Emilia  could  have  retorted,  "  Cruel  that  you  are  !  "  The 
pain  of  having  an  unripe  feeling  plucked  at  without  warning, 
was  bitter ;  but  she  repressed  any  exclamation,  in  her  desire 
to  maintain  simple  and  unsensational  relations  always  with 
those  surrounding  her. 

"  He  is  my  friend,"  she  said.  "  I  think  of  something  better 
than  that  other  word.  Oh,  that  I  were  a  man,  to  call  him 
my  brother-in-arms !  What's  a  girl's  love  in  return  for  his 
giving  his  money,  his  heart,  and  offering  his  life  every  day 
for  Italy  ?  " 

As  soon  as  Georgiana  could  put  faith  in  her  intention  to 
depart,  she  gave  her  a  friendly  hand  and  embrace. 

Two  days  later  they  were  at  Kichford,  with  Lady  Gosstre. 
The  journals  were  full  of  the  Italian  uprising.  There  had 
been  a  collision  between  the  Imperial  and  patriotic  forces, 
near  Brescia,  from  which  the  former  had  retired  in  some  con- 
fusion. Great  things  were  expected  of  Piedmont,  though 
many,  who  had  reason  to  know  him,  distrusted  her  king. 
All  Lombardy  awaited  the  signal  from  Piedmont.  Mean- 
while blood  was  flowing. 

In  the  excitement  of  her  sudden  rush  from  dead  monotony 
to  active  life,  Emilia  let  some  time  pass  before  she  wrote  to 
Wilfrid.  Her  letter  was  in  her  hand,  when  one  was  brought 
in  to  her  from  him.  It  ran  thus :  — 

"  I  have  just  returned  home,  and  what  is  this  I  hear  ? 
Are  you  utterly  faithless  ?  Can  I  not  rely  on  you  to  keep 
the  word  you  have  solemnly  pledged !  Meet  me  at  once. 
Name  a  place.  I  am  surrounded  by  misery  and  distraction. 
I  will  tell  you  all  when  we  meet.  I  have  trusted  that  you 
were  firm.  Write  instantly.  I  cannot  ask  you  to  come 
here.  The  house  is  broken  up.  There  is  no  putting  to 
paper  what  has  happened.  My  father  lies  helpless.  Every- 
thing rests  on  me.  I  thought  that  I  could  rely  on  you." 

Emilia  tore  up  her  first  letter,  and  replied :  — 

"  Come  here  at  once.  Or,  if  you  would  wish  to  meet  me 
elsewhere,  it  shall  be  where  you  please :  but  immediately. 
If  you  have  heard  that  I  am  going  to  Italy,  it  is  true.  I 
break  my  promise.  I  shall  hope  to  have  your  forgiveness. 
My  heart  bleeds  for  my  dear  Cornelia,  and  I  am  eager  to 
see  my  sisters,  and  embrace  them,  and  share  their  sorrow. 
If  I  must  not  come,  tell  them  I  kiss  them.  Adieu ! " 


AN  ADVANCE  AND  A   CHECK  467 

Wilfrid  replied :  — 

"  I  will  be  by  Richf  ord  Park  gates  to-morrow  at  a  quarter  to 
nine.  You  speak  of  your  heart.  I  suppose  it  is  a  habit  Be 
careful  to  put  on  a  cloak  or  thick  shawl ;  we  have  touches  of 
frost.  If  I  cannot  amuse  you,  perhaps  the  nightingales  will. 
Do  you  remember  those  of  last  year?  I  wonder  whether  we 
shall  hear  the  same  ?  —  we  shall  never  hear  the  same." 

This  iteration,  whether  cunningly  devised  or  not,  had  a 
charm  for  Emilia's  ear.  She  thought :  "  I  had  forgotten  all 
about  them."  When  she  was  in  her  bedroom  at  night,  she 
threw  up  her  window.  April  was  leaning  close  upon 
and  she  had  not  to  wait  long  before  a  dusky  flutter  of  low 
notes,  appearing  to  issue  from  the  great  rhododendron  bank 
across  the  lawn,  surprised  her.  She  listened,  and  another 
little  beginning  was  heard,  timorous,  shy,  and  full  of  mystery 
for  her.  The  moon  hung  over  branches,  some  that  showed 
young  buds,  some  still  bare.  Presently  the  long,  rich,  single 
notes  cut  the  air,  and  melted  to  their  glad  delicious  chuckle. 
The  singer  was  answered  from  a  farther  bough,  and  again 
from  one.  It  grew  to  be  a  circle  of  melody  round  Emilia  at 
the  open  window.  Was  it  the  same  as  last  year's  ?  The 
last  year's  lay  in  her  memory  faint  and  well-nigh  unawak- 
ened.  There  was  likewise  a  momentary  sense  of  unreality 
in  this  still  piping  peacefulness,  while  Merthyr  stood  in  a 
bloody-streaked  field,  fronting  death.  And  yet  the  song 
was  sweet.  Emilia  clasped  her  arms,  shut  her  eyes,  and 
drank  it  in.  Not  to  think  at  all,  or  even  to  brood  on  her 
sensations,  but  to  rest  half  animate  and  let  those  divine 
sounds  find  a  way  through  her  blood,  was  medicine  to  her. 

Next  day  there  were  numerous  visits  to  the  house.  Emilia 
was  reserved,  and  might  have  been  thought  sad,  but  she 
welcomed  Tracy  Runningbrook  gladly,  with  "  Oh !  my  old 
friend ! "  and  a  tender  squeeze  of  his  hand. 

"  True,  if  you  like ;  hot,  if  you  like ;  but  <  old  ? 
Tracy. 

"  Yes,  because  I  seem  to  have  got  to  the  other  side  of  you ; 
I  mean,  I  know  you,  and  am  always  sure  of  you,"  said 
Emilia.  "  You  don't  care  for  music ;  I  don't  care  for  poetry, 
but  we're  friends,  and  I  am  quite  certain  of  you,  and  think 
you  « old  friend '  always." 

«  And  I,"  said  Tracy,  better  up  to  the  mark  by  this  time, 


468  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

"  I  think  of  you,  you  dear  little  woman,  that  I  ought  to  be 
grateful  to  you,  for,  by  heaven !  you  give  me,  every  time  I 
see  you,  the  greatest  temptation  to  be  a  fool  and  let  me 
prove  that  I'm  not.  Altro !  altro ! " 

"  A  fool ! "  said  Emilia  caressingly ;  showing  that  his 
smart  insinuation  had  slipped  by  her. 

The  tale  of  Brookfield  was  told  over  again  by  Tracy,  and 
Emilia  shuddered,  though  Merthyr  and  her  country  held  her 
heart  and  imagination  active  and  in  suspense,  from  moment 
to  moment.  It  helped  mainly  to  discolour  the  young  world 
to  her  eyes.  She  was  under  the  spell  of  an  excitement  too 
keen  and  quick  to  be  subdued  by  the  sombre  terrors  of  a 
tragedy  enacted  in  a  house  that  she  had  known.  Brookfield 
was  in  the  talk  of  all  who  came  to  Eichford.  Emilia  got 
the  vision  of  the  wretched  family  seated  in  the  library  as 
usual,  when  upon  midnight  they  were  about  to  part,  and  a 
knock  came  at  the  outer  door,  and  two  men  entered  the  hall, 
bearing  a  lifeless  body  with  a  red  spot  above  the  heart.  She 
saw  Cornelia  fall  to  it.  She  saw  the  pale-faced  family  that 
had  given  her  shelter,  and  moaned  for  lack  of  a  way  of  help- 
ing them  and  comforting  them.  She  reproached  herself  for 
feeling  her  own  full  physical  life  so  warmly,  while  others 
whom  she  had  loved  were  weeping.  It  was  useless  to  resist 
the  tide  of  fresh  vitality  in  her  veins,  and  when  her  thoughts 
turned  to  their  main  attraction,  she  was  rejoicing  at  the 
great  strength  she  felt  coming  to  her  gradually.  Her  face 
was  smooth  and  impassive :  this  new  joy  of  strength  came 
on  her  like  the  flowing  of  a  sea  to  a  land-locked  water. 
"  Poor  souls ! "  she  sighed  for  her  friends,  while  irrepressi- 
ble exultation  filled  her  spirit. 

That  afternoon,  in  the  midst  of  packing  and  preparations 
for  the  journey,  at  all  of  which  Lady  Gosstre  smiled  with  a 
complacent  bewilderment,  a  card,  bearing  the  name  of  Miss 
Laura  Tinley,  was  sent  up  to  Emilia.  She  had  forgotten 
this  person,  and  asked  Lady  Gosstre  who  it  was.  Arabella's 
rival  presented  herself  most  winningly.  For  some  time, 
Emilia  listened  to  her,  with  wonder  that  a  tongue  should  be 
so  glib  on  matters  of  no  earthly  interest.  At  last,  Laura  said 
in  an  undertone  :  "  I  am  the  bearer  of  a  message  from  Mr. 
Pericles ;  do  you  walk  at  all  in  the  garden  ?  " 

Emilia  read  her  look,  and  rose.     Her  thoughts  struck  back 


AN  ADVANCE  AND  A  CHECK  469 

on  the  creature  that  she  was  when  she  had  last  seen  Mr. 
Pericles,  and  again,  by  contrast,  on  what  she  was  now! 
Eager  to  hear  of  him,  or  rather  to  divine  the  mystery  in 
her  bosom  aroused  by  the  unexpected  mention  of  his  name, 
she  was  soon  alone  with  Laura  in  the  garden. 

"  Oh,  those  poor  Poles ! "  Laura  began. 

"  You  were  going  to  say  something  of  Mr.  Pericles/*  said 
Emilia. 

"Yes,  indeed,  my  dear;  but,  of  course,  you  hare  heard 
all  the  details  of  that  dreadful  night  ?  It  cannot  be  called 
a  comfort  to  us  that  it  enables  my  brother  Albert  to  come 
forward  in  the  most  disinterested  —  I  might  venture  to  say, 
generous  —  manner,  and  prove  the  chivalry  of  his  soul ;  still, 
as  things  are,  we  are  glad,  after  such  misunderstandings,  to 
prove  to  that  sorely-tried  family  who  are  their  friends.  I  — 
you  would  little  think  so  from  their  treatment  of  me  —  I  was 
at  school  with  them.  I  knew  them  before  they  became  unin- 
telligible, though  they  always  had  a  turn  for  it  To  dress 
well,  to  be  refined,  to  marry  well  —  I  understand  all  that 
perfectly ;  but  who  could  understand  them  f  Not  they  them- 
selves, I  am  certain !  And  now  penniless !  and  not  only  that, 
but  lawyers !  You  know  that  Mrs.  Chump  has  commenced 
an  action  ?  —  no  ?  Oh,  yes  !  but  I  shall  have  to  tell  you  the 
whole  story." 

"  What  is  it  ?  —  they  want  money  ?  "  said  Emilia. 

"  I  will  tell  you.  Our  poor  gentlemanly  organist,  whom 
you  knew,  was  really  a  baronet's  son,  and  inherited  the 
title." 

Emilia  interrupted  her :  "  Oh,  do  let  me  hear  about  them ! " 

"  Well,  my  dear,  this  unfortunate  —  I  may  call  him  '  lover,' 
for  if  a  man  does  not  stamp  the  truth  of  his  affection  with  a 
pistol,  what  other  means  has  he  ?    And  just  a  word  «•*» 
romance.     I  have  been  sighing  for  it  —  no  one  would  think 
so — all  my  life.     And  who  would  have  thought  that  these 
poor  Poles  should  have  lived  to  convince  me  of  the  folly ! 
Oh,  delicious  humdrum !  —  there  is  nothing  like  it     But  you 
are  anxious,  naturally.     Poor  Sir  Purcell  Barrett 
or  may  not  have  been  mad,  but  when  he  was  brought  1 
house  at  Brookfield  —  quite  by  chance  —  I  mean,  his  body 
two  labouring  men  found  him  by  a  tree- 
whether  you  remembered  a  pollard-willow  that  stow 


470  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

white  and  rotten  by  the  water  in  the  fir-wood:  — well,  as  I 
said,  mad  or  not,  no  sooner  did  poor  Cornelia  see  him  than 
she  shrieked  that  she  was  the  cause  of  his  death.  He  was 
laid  in  the  hall  —  which  I  have  so  often  trod!  and  there 
Cornelia  sat  by  his  poor  dead  body,  and  accused  Wilfrid  and 
her  father  of  every  unkindness.  They  say  that  the  scene 
was  terrible.  Wilfrid  —  but  I  need  not  tell  you  his  charac- 
ter. He  flutters  from  flower  to  flower,  but  he  has  feeling. 
Now  comes  the  worst  of  all  —  in  one  sense ;  that  is,  looking 
on  it  as  people  of  the  world ;  and  being  in  the  world,  we 
must  take  a  worldly  view  occasionally.  Mr.  Pole — you  re- 
member how  he  behaved  once  at  Besworth:  or,  no;  you 
were  not  there,  but  he  used  your  name.  His  mania  was,  as 
everybody  could  see,  to  marry  his  children  grandly.  I  don't 
blame  him  in  any  way.  Still,  he  was  not  justified  in  living 
beyond  his  means  to  that  end,  speculating  rashly,  and  con- 
cealing his  actual  circumstances.  Well,  Mr.  Pericles  and  he 
were  involved  together ;  that  is,  Mr.  Pericles " 

"  Is  Mr.  Pericles  near  us  now  ?  "  said  Emilia  quickly. 

"  We  will  come  to  him,"  Laura  resumed,  with  the  compla- 
cency of  one  who  saw  a  goodly  portion  of  the  festival  she 
was  enjoying  still  before  her.  "I  was  going  to  say,  Mr. 
Pericles  had  poor  Mr.  Pole  in  his  power ;  has  him,  would  be 
the  corrector  tense.  And  Wilfrid,  as  you  may  have  heard, 
had  really  grossly  insulted  him,  even  to  the  extent  of  mal- 
treating him  —  a  poor  foreigner  —  rich  foreigner,  if  you  like ! 
but  not  capable  of  standing  against  a  strong  young  man  in 
wrath.  However,  now  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  Wil- 
frid repents.  He  had  been  trying  ever  since  to  see  Mr. 
Pericles ;  and  the  very  morning  of  that  day,  I  believe,  he 
saw  him  and  humbled  himself  to  make  an  apology.  This 
had  put  Mr.  Pole  in  good  spirits,  and  in  the  evening  —  he 
and  Mrs.  Chump  were  very  fond  of  their  wine  after  dinner 
—  he  was  heard  that  very  evening  to  name  a  day  for  his 
union  with  her ;  for  that  had  been  quite  understood,  and  he 
had  asked  his  daughters  and  got  their  consent.  The  sight 
of  Sir  Purcell's  corpse,  and  the  cries  of  Cornelia,  must  have 
turned  him  childish.  I  cannot  conceive  a  situation  so  har- 
rowing as  that  of  those  poor  children  hearing  their  father 
declare  himself  an  impostor !  a  beggar !  a  peculator !  He 
cried,  poor  unhappy  man !  real  tears !  The  truth  was  that 


AN  ADVANCE  AND  A  CHECK  471 

his  nerves  suddenly  gave  way.  For,  just  before  —  only 
just  before,  he  was  smiling  and  talking  largely.  He  wished 
to  go  on  his  knees  to  every  one  of  them,  and  kept  telling 
them  of  his  love  —  the  servants  all  awake  and  listening'! 
and  more  gossiping  servants  than  the  Poles  always,  by  the 
most  extraordinary  inadvertence,  managed  to  get,  you  never 
heard  of !  Nothing  would  stop  him  from  humiliating  him- 
self !  No  one  paid  any  attention  to  Mrs.  Chump  until  she 
started  from  her  chair.  They  say  that  some  of  the  servants 
who  were  crying  outside,  positively  were  compelled  to  laugh 
when  they  heard  her  first  outbursts.  And  poor  Mr.  Pole 
confessed  that  he  had  touched  her  money.  He  could  not 
tell  her  how  much.  Fancy  such  a  scene,  with  a  dead  man 
in  the  house !  Imagination  almost  refuses  to  conjure  it  up ! 
Not  to  dwell  on  it  too  long  —  for,  /  have  never  endured  such 
a  shock  as  it  has  given  me  —  Mrs.  Chump  left  the  house, 
and  the  next  thing  received  from  her  was  a  lawyer's  letter. 
Business  men  say  she  is  not  to  blame  :  women  may  cherish 
their  own  opinion.  But,  oh,  Miss  Belloni !  is  it  not  terrible  ? 
You  are  pale." 

Emilia  behind  what  she  felt  for  her  friends,  had  a  dim 
comprehension  of  the  meaning  of  their  old  disgust  at  Laura, 
during  this  narration.  But,  hearing  the  word  of  pity,  she 
did  not  stop  to  be  critical.  "Can  you  do  nothing  for 
them  ?  "  she  said  abruptly. 

The  thought  in  Laura's  shocked  grey  eyes  was,  "  They 
have  done  little  enough  for  you,"  i.e.,  toward  making  you  a 
lady.     "  Oh ! "  she  cried/  '  can  you  teach  me  what  to  do  ? 
I  must  be  extremely  delicate,  and  calculate  upon  what  they 
would  accept  from  me.    For  — so  I  hear  — they  used  to  — 
and  may  still— nourish  a  — what  I  called  —  silly - 
not   in  unkindness  —  hostility   to  our  family  - 
perhaps  now  natural  delicacy  may  render  it  difficult  for 
them  to  ... " 

In  short,  to  accept  an  alms  from  Laura  Tmley;  so  said 
her  pleading  look  for  an  interpretation. 

«  You  know  Mr.  Pericles,"  said  Emilia,  "  he  can  do  the 
mischief  —  can  he  not  ?  Stop  him." 

Laura  laughed.     "  One  might  almost  say  that  you  do  > 
know  him,  Miss  Belloni.     What  is  my  influence? 
neither  a  voice,  nor  can  I  play  on  any  instrument 


472  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

— indeed  I  will  —  do  my  best  —  my  utmost ;  only,  how  even 
to  introduce  the  subject  to  him  ?  Are  not  you  the  person  ? 
He  speaks  of  you  constantly.  He  has  consulted  doctors 
with  regard  to  your  voice,  and  the  only  excuse,  dear  Miss 
Belloni,  for  my  visit  to  you  to-day,  is  my  desire  that  any 
misunderstanding  between  you  may  be  cleared.  Because,  I 
have  just  heard  —  Miss  Belloni  will  forgive  me  !  — the  ori- 
gin of  it ;  and  tidings  coming  that  you  were  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, I  thought  —  hoped  that  I  might  be  the  means  of 
re-uniting  two  evidently  destined  to  be  of  essential  ser- 
vice to  one  another.  And  really,  life  means  that,  does  it 
not  ?  " 

Emilia  was  becoming  more  critical  of  this  tone  the  more 
she  listened.  She  declared  her  immediate  willingness  to 
meet  Mr.  Pericles.  With  which,  and  Emilia's  assurance 
that  she  would  write,  and  herself  make  the  appointment, 
Laura  retired,  in  high  glee  at  the  prospect  of  winning  the 
gratitude  of  the  inscrutable  millionaire.  It  was  true  that 
the  absence  of  any  rivalry  for  the  possession  of  the  man 
took  much  of  his  sweetness  from  him.  She  seemed  to  be 
plucking  him  from  the  hands  of  the  dead,  and  half  recog- 
nized that  victory  over  uncontesting  rivals  claps  the  laurel- 
wreath  rather  rudely  upon  our  heads. 

Emilia  lost  no  time  in  running  straight  to  Georgiana,  who 
was  busy  at  her  writing-desk.  She  related  what  she  had 
just  heard,  ending  breathlessly :  "  Georgey !  my  dear  !  will 
you  help  them  ?  " 

"  In  what  possible  way  can  I  do  so  ?  "  said  Georgiana. 
"  To-morrow  night  we  shall  have  left  England." 

"But  to-day  we  are  here."  Emilia  pressed  a  hand  to  her 
bosom  :  "  my  heart  feels  hollow,  and  my  friends  cry  out  in  it. 
I  cannot  let  him  suffer."  She  looked  into  Georgiana's  eyes. 
"  Will  you  not  help  them? — they  want  money." 

The  lady  reddened.  "Is  it  not  preposterous  to  suppose 
that  I  can  offer  them  assistance  of  such  a  kind  ?  " 

"  Not  you,"  returned  Emilia,  sighing ;  and  in  an  under- 
breath,  "  me  —  will  you  lend  it  to  me  ?  Merthyr  would.  I 
shall  repay  it.  I  cannot  tell  what  fills  me  with  this  delight, 
but  I  know  I  am  able  to  repay  any  sum.  Two  thousand 
pounds  would  help  them.  I  think — I  think  my  voice  has 
come  back." 


AN  ADVANCE  AND   A  CHECK  478 

a  Have  you  tried  it  ?  "  said  Georgiana,  to  produce  a  diver- 
sion from  the  other  topic. 

"No;  but  believe  me  when  I  tell  you,  it  must  be.  I 
scarcely  feel  the  floor ;  no  misery  touches  me.  I  am  only 
sorry  for  my  friends,  not  down  on  the  ground  with  them. 
Believe  me !  And  I  have  been  studying  all  this  while.  I 
have  not  lost  an  hour.  I  would  accept  a  part,  and  step  on 
the  boards  within  a  week,  and  be  certain  to  succeed.  I  am 
just  as  willing  to  go  to  the  Conservatorio  and  submit  to  dis- 
cipline. Only,  dear  friend,  believe  me,  that  I  ask  for  money 
now,  because  I  am  sure  I  can  repay  it.  I  want  to  send  it 
immediately,  and  then,  good-bye  to  England." 

Georgiana  closed  her  desk.  She  had  been  suspicious  at 
first  of  another  sentiment  in  the  background,  but  was  now 
quite  convinced  of  the  simplicity  of  Emilia's  design.  She 
said :  "  I  will  tell  you  exactly  how  I  am  placed.  I  do  not 
know,  that  under  any  circumstances,  I  could  have  given  into 
your  hands  so  large  a  sum  as  this  that  you  ask  for.  My 
brother  has  a  fortune;  and  I  have  also  a  little  property. 
When  I  say  my  brother  has  a  fortune,  he  has  the  remains 
of  one.  All  that  has  gone  has  been  devoted  to  relieve  your 
countrymen,  and  further  the  interests  he  has  nearest  at  heart. 
What  is  left  to  him,  I  believe,  he  has  now  thrown  into  the 
gulf.  You  have  heard  Lady  Charlotte  call  him  a  fanatic." 

Emilia's  lip  quivered. 

"  You  must  not  blame  her  for  that,"  Georgiana  continued. 
"  Lady  Gosstre  thinks  much  the  same.  The  world  thinks 
with  them.  I  love  him,  and  prove  my  love  by  trusting  him, 
and  wish  to  prove  my  love  by  aiding  him,  and  being  always 
at  hand  to  succour,  as  I  should  be  now,  but  that  I  obeyed 
his  dearest  wish  in  resting  here  to  watch  over  you.  I  am 
his  other  self.  I  have  taught  him  to  feel  that,  so  that 
in  his  devotion  to  this  cause  he  may  follow  every  impulse 
he  has,  and  still  there  is  his  sister  to  fall  back  on.  My 
child !  see  what  I  have  been  doing.  I  have  been  calculating 
here."  Georgiana  took  a  scroll  from  her  desk,  and  laid  it 
under  Emilia's  eyes.  "I  have  reckoned  our  expenses  «afc> 
as  Turin,  and  have  only  consented  to  take  Ladv  Gosstre's 
valet  for  courier,  just  to  please  her.  I  know  that  he  will 
make  the  cost  double,  and  I  feel  like  a  miser  about  money. 
If  Merthyr  is  ruined,  he  will  require  every  farthing  that  I 


474  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

have  for  our  common  subsistence.  Now  do  you  understand  ? 
I  can  hardly  put  the  case  more  plainly.  It  is  out  of  my 
power  to  do  what  you  ask  me  to  do." 

Emilia  sighed  lightly,  and  seemed  not  much  cast  down  by 
the  refusal.  She  perceived  that  it  was  necessarily  positive, 
and  like  all  minds  framed  to  resolve  to  action,  there  was  an 
instantaneous  change  of  the  current  of  her  thoughts  in  an- 
other direction. 

"  Then,  my  darling,  my  one  prayer ! "  she  said.  "  Post- 
pone our  going  for  a  week.  I  will  try  to  get  help  for  them 
elsewhere." 

Georgiana  was  pleased  by  Emilia's  manner  of  taking  the 
rebuff;  but  it  required  an  altercation  before  she  consented 
to  this  postponement ;  she  nodded  her  head  finally  in  anger. 


CHAPTER  LVII 

CONTAINS   A   FURTHER  ANATOMY   OP   WILFRID 

BY  the  park-gates  that  evening,  Wilfrid  received  a  letter 
from  the  hands  of  Tracy  Kunningbrook.  It  said:  "I  am 
not  able  to  see  you  now.  When  I  tell  you  that  I  will  see 
you  before  I  leave  England,  I  insist  upon  your  believing  me. 
I  have  no  head  for  seeing  anybody  now.  EMILIA"  —  was 
the  simple  signature,  perused  over  and  over  again  by  this 
maddened  lover,  under  the  flitting  gate-lamp,  after  Tracy 
had  left  him.  The  coldness  of  Emilia's  name  so  briefly 
given,  concentrated  every  fire  in  his  heart.  What  was  it 
but  miserable  cowardice,  he  thought,  that  prevented  him 
from  getting  the  peace  poor  Barrett  had  found  ?  Intoler- 
able anguish  weakened  his  limbs.  He  flung  himself  on  a 
wayside  bank,  grovelling,  to  rise  again  calm  and  quite  ready 
for  society,  upon  the  proper  application  of  the  clothes-brush. 
Indeed,  he  patted  his  shoulder  and  elbow  to  remove  the  soil 
of  his  short  contact  with  earth,  and  tried  a  cigar :  but  the 
first  taste  of  the  smoke  sickened  his  lips.  Then  he  stood 
for  a  moment  as  a  man  in  a  new  world.  This  strange  sen- 
sation of  disgust  with  familiar  comforting  habits,  fixed  him 


CONTAINS   A   FURTHER   ANATOMY  OF  WILFRID      475 

in  perplexity,  till  a  rushing  of  wild  thoughts  and  hopes  from 
brain  to  heart,  heart  to  brain,  gave  him  insight,  and  he  per- 
ceived  his  state,  and  that  for  all  he  held  to  in  our  life  he  was 
dependent  upon  another;  which  is  virtually  the  curse  of  love, 

"  And  he  passed  along  the  road,"  adds  the  Philosopher, 

a  weaker  man,  a  stronger  lover.  Not  that  love  should 
diminish  manliness  or  gains  by  so  doing;  but  travelling  to 
love  by  the  ways  of  Sentiment,  attaining  to  the  passion  bit 
by  bit,  does  full  surely  take  from  us  the  strength  of  our 
nature,  as  if  (which  is  probable)  at  every  step  we  paid  fee 
to  move  forward.  Wilfrid  had  just  enough  of  the  coin  to 
pay  his  footing.  He  was  verily  fining  hi mselfdown.  You 
are  tempted  to  ask  what  the  value  of  him  will  be  by  the  time 
that  he  turns  out  pure  metal?  I  reply,  something  consider- 
able, if  by  great  sacrifice  he  gets  to  truth  —  gets  to  that 
oneness  of  feeling  which  is  the  truthful  impulse.  At  last, 
he  will  stand  high  above  them  that  have  not  suffered.  The 
rejection  of  his  cigar " 

This  waxes  too  absurd.  At  the  risk  of  breaking  our 
partnership  for  ever,  I  intervene.  My  Philosopher's  mean- 
ing is  plain,  and,  as  usual,  good;  but  not  even  I,  who  have 
less  reason  to  laugh  at  him  than  anybody,  can  gravely  accept 
the  juxtaposition  of  suffering  and  cigars.  And,  moreover, 
there  is  a  little  piece  of  action  in  store. 

Wilfrid  had  walked  half  way  to  Brookfield,  when  the 
longing  to  look  upon  the  Richford  chamber-windows  stirred 
so  hotly  within  him  that  he  returned  to  the  gates.  He  saw 
Captain  Gambier  issuing  on  horseback  from  under  the  lamp. 
The  captain  remarked  that  it  was  a  fine  night,  and  prepared 
to  ride  off,  but  Wilfrid  requested  him  to  dismount,  and  his 
voice  had  the  unmistakeable  ring  in  it  by  which  a  man  knows 
that  there  must  be  no  trifling.  The  captain  leaned  forward 
to  look  at  him  before  he  obeyed  the  summons.  All  self- 
control  had  abandoned  Wilfrid  in  the  rage  he  felt  at  Gam- 
bier's  having  seen  Emilia,  and  the  jealous  suspicion  that 
she  had  failed  to  keep  her  appointment  for  the  like  reason. 

"  Why  do  you  come  here,?  "  he  said,  hoarsely. 

"By  Jove!  that's  an  odd  question,"  said  the  captain,  at 
once  taking  his  ground. 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  you've  been  playing  with  my 
sister,  as  you  do  with  every  other  woman? 


476  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

Captain  Gambler  murmured  quietly,  "Every  other 
woman?  "  and  smoothed  his  horse's  neck.  "  They're  not  so 
easily  played  with,  my  dear  fellow.  You  speak  like  a 
youngster." 

"I  am  the  only  protector  of  my  sister's  reputation,"  said 
Wilfrid,  "and,  by  heaven!  if  you  have  cast  her  over  to  be 
the  common  talk,  you  shall  meet  me." 

The  captain  turned  to  his  horse,  saying,  "Oh!  Well!" 
Being  mounted,  he  observed:  "My  dear  Pole,  you  might 
have  sung  out  all  you  had  to  say.  Go  to  your  sister,  and 
if  she  complains  of  my  behaviour,  I'll  meet  you.  Oh,  yes ! 
I'll  meet  you;  I  have  no  objection  to  excitement.  You're 
in  the  hands  of  an  infernally  clever  woman,  who  does  me 
the  honour  to  wish  to  see  my  blood  on  the  carpet,  I  believe ; 
but  if  this  is  her  scheme,  it's  not  worthy  of  her  ability. 
She  began  pretty  well.  She  arranged  the  preliminaries 
capitally.  Why,  look  here,"  he  relinquished  his  ordinary 
drawl;  "I'll  tell  you  something,  which  you  may  put  down 
in  my  favour  or  not  —  just  as  you  like.  That  woman  did 
her  best  to  compromise  your  sister  with  me  on  board  the 
yacht.  I  can't  tell  you  how,  and  won't.  Of  course,  I 
wouldn't  if  I  could;  but  I  have  sense  enough  to  admire  a 
very  charming  person,  and  I  did  the  only  honourable  thing 
in  my  power.  It's  your  sister,  my  good  fellow,  who  gave 
me  my  dismissal.  We  had  a  little  common  sense  conversa- 
tion —  in  which  she  shines.  I  envy  the  man  that  marries 
her,  but  she  denies  me  such  luck.  There !  if  you  want  to 
shoot  me  for  my  share  in  that  transaction,  I'll  give  you  your 
chance :  and  if  you  do,  my  dear  Pole,  either  you  must  be  a 
tremendous  fool,  or  that  woman's  ten  times  cleverer  than  I 
thought.  You  know  where  to  find  me.  Good  night." 

The  captain  gave  heel  to  his  horse,  hearing  no  more. 

Adela  confirmed  to  Wilfrid  what  Gambier  had  spoken; 
and  that  it  was  she  who  had  given  him  his  dismissal.  She 
called  him  by  his  name,  'Augustus, '  in  a  kindly  tone,  remark- 
ing, that  Lady  Charlotte  had  persecuted  him  dreadfully. 
"  Poor  Augustus !  his  entire  reputation  for  evil  is  owing  to 
her  black  paint-brush.  There  is  no  man  so  easily  'hooked,' 
as  Mrs.  Bayruffle  would  say,  as  he,  though  he  has  but  eight 
hundred  a  year :  barely  enough  to  live  on.  It  would  have 
been  cruel  of  me  to  keep  him,  for  if  he  is  in  love,  it's  with 
Emilia." 


CONTAINS   A  FURTHER  ANATOMY  OP   WILFRID      477 

Wilfrid  here  took  upon  himself  to  reproach  her  for  a 
certain  negligence  of  worldly  interests.  She  laughed  and 
blushed  with  humorous  satisfaction ;  and,  on  second  thoughts, 
he  changed  his  opinion,  telling  her  that  he  wished  he  could 
win  his  freedom  as  she  had  done. 

"Wilfrid,"  she  said  suddenly,  "will  you  persuade  Cor- 
nelia not  to  wear  black?" 

"Yes,  if  you  wish  it,"  he  replied. 

"You  will,  positively?  Then  listen,  dear.  I  don't  like 
the  prospect  of  your  alliance  with  Lady  Charlotte." 

Wilfrid  could  not  repress  a  despondent  shrug. 

"But  you  can  get  released,"  she  cried;  and  ultimately 
counselled  him :  "  Mention  the  name  of  Lord  Eltham  before 
her  once,  when  you  are  alone.  Watch  the  result.  Only, 
don't  be  clumsy.  But  I  need  not  tell  you  that." 

For  hours  he  cudgelled  his  brains  to  know  why  she  desired 
Cornelia  not  to  wear  black,  and  when  the  light  broke  in  on 
him  he  laughed  like  a  jolly  youth  for  an  instant.  The  reason 
why  was  in  a  web  so  complicated,  that,  to  have  divined  what 
hung  on  Cornelia's  wearing  of  black,  showed  a  rare  sagacity 
and  perception  of  character  on  the  little  lady's  part.  As 
thus :  —  Sir  Twickenham  Pryme  is  the  most  sensitive  of  men 
to  ridicule  and  vulgar  tattle :  he  has  continued  to  visit  the 
house,  learning  by  degrees  to  prefer  me,  but  still  too  chival- 
rous to  withdraw  his  claim  to  Cornelia,  notwithstanding  that 
he  has  seen  indications  of  her  not  too  absolute  devotion 
towards  him :  —  I  have  let  him  become  aware  that  I  *  have 
broken  with  Captain  Gambier  (whose  income  is  eight  hun- 
dred a  year  merely),  for  the  sake  of  a  higher  attachment:  — 
now,  since  the  catastrophe,  he  can  with  ease  make  it  appear 
to  the  world  that  /  was  his  choice  from  the  first,  seeing  that 
Cornelia  will  assuredly  make  no  manner  of  objection :  —  bat, 
if  she,  with  foolish  sentimental  persistence,  assumes  the 
garb  of  sorrow,  then  Sir  Twickenham's  ears  will  tingle;  he 
will  retire  altogether;  he  will  not  dare  to  place  himself  in 
a  position  which  will  lend  a  colour  to  the  gossip,  that  jilt«><! 
by  one  sister,  he  flew  for  consolation  to  the  other;  jilted, 
too,  for  the  mere  memory  of  a  dead  man!  an  additional 
insult ! 

Exquisite  intricacy!  Wilfrid  worked  through  all  the 
intervolutions,  and  nearly  forgot  his  wretchedness  in  adrai- 


478  BMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

ration  of  his  sister's  mental  endowments.  He  was  the  more 
willing  to  magnify  them,  inasmuch  as  he  thereby  strength- 
ened his  hope  that  liberty  would  follow  the  speaking  of  the 
talisrnanie  name  of  Eltham  to  Lady  Charlotte,  alone.  He 
had  come  to  look  upon  her  as  the  real  barrier  between  him- 
self and  Emilia. 

"I  think  we  have  brains,"  he  said  softly,  on  his  pillow, 
upon  a  review  of  the  beggared  aspect  of  his  family  j  and  he 
went  to  sleep  with  a  smile  on  his  face. 


CHAPTER  LVIII 

FROST   ON   THE   MAY  NIGHT 

A  SHARP  breath  of  air  had  passed  along  the  dews,  and  all 
the  young  green  of  the  fresh  season  shone  in  white  jewels. 
The  sky,  set  with  very  dim  distant  stars,  was  in  grey  light 
round  a  small  brilliant  moon.  Every  space  of  earth  lifted 
clear  to  her;  the  woodland  listened;  and  in  the  bright  silence 
the  nightingales  sang  loud. 

Emilia  and  Tracy  Runningbrook  were  threading  their  way 
toward  a  lane  over  which  great  oak  branches  intervolved; 
thence  under  larches  all  with  glittering  sleeves,  and  among 
spiky  brambles,  with  the  purple  leaf  and  the  crimson  frosted. 
The  frost  on  the  edges  of  the  brown-leaved  bracken  gave  a 
faint  colour.  Here  and  there,  intense  silver  dazzled  their 
eyes.  As  they  advanced  amid  the  icy  hush,  so  hard  and 
instant  was  the  ring  of  the  earth  under  them,  their  steps 
sounded  as  if  expected. 

"  This  night  seems  made  for  me !  "  said  Emilia, 

Tracy  had  no  knowledge  of  the  object  of  the  expedition. 
He  was  her  squire  simply ;  had  pitched  on  a  sudden  into  an 
enamoured  condition,  and  walked  beside  her,  caring  little 
whither  he  was  led,  so  that  she  left  him  not. 

They  came  upon  a  clearing  in  the  wood  where  a  tourna- 
ment of  knights  might  have  been  held.  Ranged  on  two 
sides  were  rows  of  larches,  and  forward,  fit  to  plume  a  dais, 
a  clump  of  tall  firs  stood  with  a  flowing  silver  fir  to  right 


FROST   ON  THE  MAT  NIGHT  47'J 

and  left,  and  the  white  stems  of  the  birch-tree  shining  from 
among  them.  This  fair  woodland  court  had  three  broad 
oaks,  as  for  gateways ;  and  the  moon  was  above  it.  MOM 
and  the  frosted  brown  fern  were  its  flooring. 

Emilia  said  eagerly,  "This  way,"  and  ran  under  one  of 
the  oaks.  She  turned  to  Tracy  following:  "There  is  no 
doubt  of  it."  Her  hand  was  lying  softly  on  her  throat. 

"  Your  voice  ?  "  Tracy  divined  her. 

She  nodded,  but  frowned  lovingly  at  the  shout  he  raised, 
and  he  understood  that  there  was  haply  some  plot  to  be 
worked  out.  The  open  space  was  quite  luminous  in  the 
middle  of  those  three  deep  walls  of  shadow.  Emilia  enjoined 
him  to  rest  where  he  was,  and  wait  for  her  on  that  spot  like 
a  faithful  sentinel,  whatsoever  ensued.  Coaxing  his  promise, 
she  entered  the  square  of  white  light  alone.  Presently  she 
stood  upon  a  low  mound,  so  that  her  whole  figure  was  dis- 
tinct, while  the  moon  made  her  features  visible. 

Expectancy  sharpened  the  stillness  to  Tracy's  ears.  A 
nightingale  began  the  charm.  He  was  answered  by  another. 
Many  were  soon  in  song,  till  even  the  pauses  were  sweet  with 
them.  Tracy  had  the  thought  that  they  were  calling  for 
Emilia  to  commence ;  that  it  was  nature  preluding  the  divine 
human  voice,  weaving  her  spell  for  it  He  was  seized  by  a 
thirst  to  hear  the  adorable  girl,  who  stood  there  patiently, 
with  her  face  lifted  soft  in  moonlight  And  then  the  blood 
thrilled  along  his  veins,  as  if  one  more  than  mortal  had  touched 
him.  It  seemed  to  him  long  before  he  knew  that  Emilia's 
voice  was  in  the  air. 

In  such  a  place,  at  such  a  time,  there  is  no  wizardry  like  a 
woman's  voice.  Emilia  had  gained  in  force  and  fulness. 
She  sang  with  a  stately  fervour,  letting  the  notes  flow  from 
her  breast,  while  both  her  arms  hung  loose,  and  not  a  gesture 
escaped  her.  Tracy's  fiery  imagination  set  him  throbbing, 
as  to  the  voice  of  the  verified  spirit  of  the  place.  He  heard 
nothing  but  Emilia,  and  scarce  felt  that  it  was  she,  or  that 
tears  were  on  his  eyelids,  till  her  voice  sank  richly,  deep  into 
the  bosom  of  the  woods.  Then  the  stillness,  like  one  folding 
up  a  precious  jewel,  seemed  to  pant  audibly. 

"  She's  not  alone  ! "  This  was  human  speech  at  his  elbow. 
uttered  in  some  stupefied  amazement  -  In  an  extremity  ol 
wrath,  Tracy  turned  about  to  curse  the  intruder,  and  discerned 


480  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

Wilfrid,  eagerly  bent  forward  on  the  other  side  of  the  oak  by 
which  he  leaned.  Advancing  toward  Emilia,  two  figures  were 
seen.  Mr.  Pericles  in  his  bearskin  was  easily  to  be  distin- 
guished. His  companion  was  Laura  Tinley.  The  Greek 
moved  at  rapid  strides,  and  coming  near  upon  Emilia,  raised 
his  hands  as  in  exclamation.  At  once  he  disencumbered  his 
shoulders  of  the  enormous  wrapper,  held  it  aloft  imperiously, 
and  by  main  force  extinguished  Emilia.  Laura's  shrill  laugh 
resounded. 

"  Oh !  beastly  bathos ! "  Tracy  groaned  in  his  heart. 
"  Here  we  are  down  in  Avernus  in  a  twinkling  !  " 

There  was  evidently  quick  talk  going  on  among  the  three, 
after  which  Emilia,  heavily  weighted,  walked  a  little  apart 
with  Mr.  Pericles,  who  looked  lean  and  lank  beside  her,  and 
gesticulated  in  his  wildest  manner.  Tracy  glanced  about  for 
Wilfrid.  The  latter  was  not  visible,  but,  stepping  up  the 
bank  of  sand  and  moss,  appeared  a  lady  in  shawl  and  hat,  in 
whom  he  recognized  Lady  Charlotte.  He  went  up  to  her 
and  saluted. 

"  Ah !  Tracy,"  she  said.  "  I  saw  you  leave  the  drawing- 
room,  and  expected  to  find  you  here.  So,  the  little  woman 
has  got  her  voice  again ;  but  why  on  earth  couldn't  she  make 
the  display  at  Bichford  ?  It's  very  pretty,  and  I  dare  say 
you  highly  approve  of  this  kind  of  romantic  interlude,  Signer 
Poet,  but  it  strikes  me  as  being  rather  senseless." 

"  But,  are  you  alone  ?  What  on  earth  brings  you  here  ?  " 
asked  Tracy. 

"  Oh ! "  the  lady  shrugged.  "  I've  a  guard  to  the  rear. 
I  told  her  I  would  come.  She  said  I  should  hear  something 
to-night,  if  I  did.  I  fancied  naturally  the  appointment 
had  to  do  with  her  voice,  and  wished  to  please  her.  It's  only 
five  minutes  from  the  west-postern  of  the  park.  Is  she  going 
to  sing  any  more  ?  There's  company  apparently.  Shall  we 
go  and  declare  ourselves  ?  " 

"  I'm  on  duty,  and  can't,"  replied  Tracy,  and  twisting  his 
body  in  an  ecstasy,  added :  "  Did  you  hear  her  ?  " 

Lady  Charlotte  laughed  softly.  "  You  speak  as  if  you  had 
taken  a  hurt,  my  dear  boy.  This  sort  of  scene  is  dangerous 
to  poets.  But,  I  thought  you  slighted  music." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I'm  breathing  yet,"  Tracy  rejoined. 
"  She's  a  Goddess  to  me  from  this  moment.  Not  like  music  ? 


FROST  ON  THE  MAY  NIGHT  461 

Am  I  a  dolt  ?  She  would  raise  me  from  the  dead,  if  she 
sang  over  me.  Put  me  in  a  boat,  and  let  her  sing  on,  and 
all  may  end !  I  could  die  into  colour,  hearing  her !  That's 
the  voice  they  hear  in  heaven." 

"When  they  are  good,  I  suppose,"  the  irreverent  lady 
appended.  "  What's  that  ?  "  And  she  held  her  head  to  listen. 

Emilia's  mortal  tones  were  calling  Wilfrid's  name.  The 
lady  became  grave,  as  with  keen  eyes  she  watched  the  open 
space,  and  to  a  second  call  Wilfrid  presented  himself  in  a 
leisurely  way  from  under  cover  of  the  trees ;  stepping  into 
the  square  towards  the  three,  as  one  equal  to  all  occasions, 
and  specially  prepared  for  this.  He  was  observed  to  bow 
to  Mr.  Pericles,  and  the  two  men  extended  hands,  Laura 
Tinley  standing  decently  away  from  them. 

Lady  Charlotte  could  not  contain  her  mystification. 
"  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  she  said.  "  Wilfrid  was  to  be  in 
town  at  the  Ambassador's  to-night !  He  wrote  to  me  at  five 
o'clock  from  his  Club !  Is  he  insane  ?  Has  he  lost  every 
sense  of  self-interest  ?  He  can't  have  made  up  his  mind  to 
miss  his  opportunity,  when  all  the  introductions  are  there  I 
Run,  like  a  good  creature,  Tracy,  and  see  if  that  is  Wilfrid, 
and  come  back  and  tell  me ;  but  don't  say  I  am  here." 

"Desert  my  post?"  Tracy  hugged  his  arms  tight  to- 
gether. "  Not  if  I  freeze  here ! " 

The  doubt  in  Lady  Charlotte's  eyes  was  transient  She 
dropped  her  glass.  Visible  adieux  were  being  waved  be- 
tween Mr.  Pericles  and  Laura  Tinley  on  the  one  hand,  and 
Wilfrid  and  Emilia,  on  the  other.  After  which,  and  at  a 
quick  pace,  manifestly  shivering,  Mr.  Pericles  drew  Laura 
into  the  shadows,  and  Emilia,  clad  in  the  immense  bearskin, 
as  with  a  trailing  black  barbaric  robe,  walked  toward  the 
oaks.  Wilfrid's  head  was  stooped  to  a  level  with  Emilia's, 
into  whose  face  he  was  looking  obliviously,  while  the  hot 
words  sprang  from  his  lips.  They  neared  the  oak,  and  Emi- 
lia slanted  her  direction,  so  as  to  avoid  the  neighbourhoo 
of  the  tree.  Tracy  felt  a  sudden  grasp  of  his  arm.  It  WM 
momentary,  coming  simultaneously  with  a  burst  of  Wilfrid  • 
voice. 

"Do  I  know  what  I  love,  you  ask? 
prints !    Everything  you  have  touched  is  like  fire  to  me. 
Emilia!  Emilia!" 


482  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

"Then,"  came  the  clear  reply,  "you  do  not  love  Lady 
Charlotte  ?  " 

"Love  her!"  he  shouted  scornfully,  and  subdued  his 
voice  to  add :  "  She  has  a  good  heart,  and  whatever  scandal 
is  talked  of  her  and  Lord  Eltham,  she  is  a  well-meaning 
friend.  But,  love  her !  You,  you  I  love ! " 

"Theatrical  business,"  Lady  Charlotte  murmured,  and 
imagined  she  had  expected  it  when  she  promised  Emilia  she 
would  step  out  into  the  night  air,  as  possibly  she  had. 

The  lady  walked  straight  up  to  them. 

"  Well,  little  one ! "  she  addressed  Emili^ ;  "  I  am  glad 
you  have  recovered  your  voice.  You  play  the  game  of  tit- 
for-tat  remarkably  well.  We  will  now  sheath  our  battle- 
dores. There  is  my  hand." 

The  unconquerable  aplomb  in  Lady  Charlotte,  which  Wil- 
frid always  artistically  admired,  and  which  always  mastered 
him ;  the  sight  of  her  pale  face  and  courageous  eyes ;  and 
her  choice  of  the  moment  to  come  forward  and  declare  her 
presence ;  —  all  fell  upon  the  furnace  of  Wilfrid's  heart  like 
a  quenching  flood.  In  a  stupefaction,  he  confessed  to  him- 
self that  he  could  say  actually  nothing.  He  could  hardly 
look  up. 

Emilia  turned  her  eyes  from  the  outstretched  hand,  to 
the  lady's  face. 

"  What  will  it  mean  ?  "  she  said. 

"  That  we  are  quits,  I  presume ;  and  that  we  bear  no  mal- 
ice. At  any  rate,  that  I  relinquish  the  field.  I  like  a  hand 
that  can  deal  a  good  stroke.  I  conceived  you  to  be  a  mere 
little  romantic  person,  and  correct  my  mistake.  You  win 
the  prize,  you  see." 

"  You  would  have  made  him  an  Austrian,  and  he  is  now 
safe  from  that.  I  win  nothing  more,"  said  Emilia. 

When  Tracy  and  Emilia  stood  alone,  he  cried  out  in  a 
rapture  of  praise,  "Now  I  know  what  a  power  you  have. 
You  may  bid  me  live  or  die." 

The  recent  scene  concerned  chiefly  the  actors  who  had 
moved  onward :  it  had  touched  Emilia  but  lightly,  and  him 
not  at  all.  But,  while  he  magnified  the  glory  of  her  singing,  the 
imperishable  note  she  had  sounded  this  night,  and  the  power 
and  the  triumph  that  would  be  hers,  Emilia's  bosom  began  to 
heave,  and  she  checked  him  with  a  storm  of  tears.  "  Triumph.' 


EMILIA'S  GOOD-BYE 

yes  !  what  is  this  I  have  done  ?  Oh, Merthyr,  my  true  hero! 
He  praises  me  and  knows  nothing  of  how  false  I  have  been 
to  you.  I  ain  a  slave !  I  have  sold  myself  —  sold  myself ! n 
She  dropped  her  face  in  her  hands,  broken  with  grief. 
"He  fights,"  she  pursued;  "he  fights  for  my  country.  I 
feel  his  blood  —  it  seems  to  run  from  my  body  as  it  run* 
from  his.  Not  if  he  is  dying  —  I  dare  not  go  to  him  if  he 
is  dying!  I  am  in  chains.  I  have  sworn  it  for  money. 
See  what  a  different  man  Merthyr  is  from  any  on  earth! 
Would  he  shoot  himself  for  a  woman?  Would  he  grow 
meaner  the  more  he  loved  her?  My  hero!  my  hero!  and 
Tracy,  my  friend!  what  is  my  grief  now?  Merthyr  is  my 
hero,  but  I  hear  him  —  I  hear  him  speaking  it  into  my  ears 
with  his  own  lips,  that  I  do  not  love  him.  And  it  is  true 
I  never  should  have  sold  myself  for  three  weary  years  away 
from  him,  if  I  had  loved  him.  I  know  it  now  it  is  done. 
I  thought  more  of  my  poor  friends  and  Wilfrid,  than  of 
Merthyr,  who  bleeds  for  my  country!  And  he  will  not 
spurn  me  when  we  meet.  Yes,  if  he  lives,  he  will  come 
to  me  gentle  as  a  ghost  that  has  seen  God !  " 

She  abandoned  herself  to  weeping.  Tracy,  in  a  tender 
reverence  for  one  who  could  speak  such  solemn  matter 
spontaneously,  supported  her,  and  felt  her  tears  at  a  rain 
of  flame  on  his  heart. 

The  nightingales  were  mute.  Not  a  sound  was  heard 
from  bough  or  brake. 


CHAPTER  LIX 
EMILIA'S  OOOD-BTK 

A  WRECK  from  the  last  Lombard  revolt  landed  upon  our 
shores  in  June.     His  right  arm  was  in  a  sling,  and  his 
Italian  servant  following  him,  kept  close  by  his  side,  wit 
a  ready  hand,  as  if  fearing  that  at  any  moment  the  wounded 
gentleman's  steps  might  fail.     There  was  no  public 
going  on  just  then:  for  which  reason  he  was  eyed  sus- 
piciously by  the  rest  of  the  passengers  making  their  way  up 
the  beach;  who  seemed  to  entertain  an  impression  that  h* 


484  EMILIA  IN  ENGLAND 

had  no  business  at  such  a  moment  to  be  crippled,  and  might 
be  put  down  as  one  of  those  foreign  fools  who  stand  out  for 
a  trifle  as  targets  to  fools  a  little  luckier  than  themselves. 
Here,  within  our  salt  girdle,  flourishes  common  sense.  We 
cherish  life;  we  abhor  bloodshed;  we  have  no  sympathy 
•with  your  juvenile  points  of  honour:  we  are,  in  short,  a 
civilized  people ;  and  seeing  that  Success  has  made  us  what 
we  are,  we  advise  other  nations  to  succeed,  or  be  quiet. 
Of  all  of  which  the  gravely-smiling  gentleman  appeared 
well  aware ;  for,  with  an  eye  that  courted  none,  and  a  per- 
fectly calm  face,  he  passed  through  the  crowd,  only  once 
availing  himself  of  his  brown-faced  Beppo's  spontaneously 
depressed  shoulder  when  a  twinge  of  pain  shooting  from  his 
torn  foot  took  his  strength  away.  While  he  remained  in 
sight,  some  speculation  as  to  his  nationality  continued:  he 
had  been  heard  to  speak  nothing  but  Italian,  and  yet  the 
flower  of  English  cultivation  was  signally  manifest  in  his 
style  and  bearing.  The  purchase  of  that  day's  journal, 
giving  information  that  the  Lombard  revolt  was  fully,  it 
was  thought  finally,  crushed  out,  and  the  insurgents  scat- 
tered, hanged,  or  shot,  suggested  to  a  young  lady  in  a 
group  melancholy  with  luggage,  that  the  wounded  gentle- 
man was  one  who  had  escaped  from  the  Austrians. 

"Only,  he  is  English." 

"If  he  is,  he  deserves  what  he's  got." 

A  stout  Briton  delivered  this  sentence,  and  gave  in 
addition  a  sermon  on  meddling,  short,  emphatic,  and  not 
uncheerful  apparently,  if  estimated  by  the  hearty  laugh 
that  closed  it;  though  a  lady  remarked,  "Oh,  dear  me! 
You  are  very  sweeping." 

"By  George!  ma'am,"  cried  the  Briton,  holding  out  his 
newspaper,  "  here's  a  leader  on  the  identical  subject,  with 
all  my  views  in  it!  Yes!  those  Italians  are  absurd:  they 
never  were  a  people :  never  agreed.  Egad !  the  only  place 
they're  fit  for  is  the  stage.  Art!  if  you  like.  They  know 
all  about  colouring  canvas,  and  sculpturing.  I  don't  deny 
'em  their  merits,  and  I  don't  mind  listening  to  their  squall- 
ing, now  and  then :  though,  I'll  tell  you  what :  —  have  you 
ever  noticed  the  calves  of  those  singers?  —  I  mean,  the 
men.  Perhaps  not  —  for  they've  got  none.  They're  sticks, 
not  legs.  Who  can  think  much  of  fellows  with  such  legs? 


EMILIA'S  GOOD-BYE  435 

Now,  the  next  time  you  go  to  the  Italian  Opera,  notice  'em. 
Ha!  ha!— well,  that  would  sound  queer,  told  at  second- 
hand; but,  just  look  at  their  legs,  ma'am,  and  ask  yourself 
whether  there  s  much  chance  for  a  country  that  stands  on 
legs  like  those!  Let  them  paint,  and  carve  blocks,  and 
sing.  They're  not  fit  for  much  else,  as  far  as  I  can  see." 
Thus,  in  the  pride  of  his  manliness,  the  male  Briton.  A 
shrill  cry  drew  the  attention  of  this  group  once  more  to  the 
person  who  had  just  kindly  furnished  a  topic.  He  had  been 
met  on  his  way  by  a  lady  unmistakeably  foreign  in  her 
appearance.  "Marini!"  was  the  word  of  the  cry;  and 
the  lady  stood  with  her  head  bent  and  her  hands  stiffened 
rigidly. 

"Lost  her  husband,  I  dare  say!"  the  Briton  murmured. 
"  Perhaps  he's  one  of  the  <  hanged,  or  shot,'  in  the  list  here. 
Hanged!  shot!  Ask  those  Austrians  to  be  merciful,  and 
that's  their  reply.  Why,  good  God !  it's  like  the  grunt  of  a 
savage  beast!  Hanged!  shot!  —  count  how  many  for  one 
day's  work!  Ten  at  Verona;  fifteen  at  Mantua;  five  — 
there,  stop !  If  we  enter  into  another  alliance  with  those 
infernal  ruffians!  —  if  they're  not  branded  in  the  face  of 
Europe  as  inhuman  butchers !  if  I  —  by  George !  if  I  were 
an  Italian  I'd  handle  a  musket  myself,  and  think  great  guns 
the  finest  music  going.  Mind,  if  there's  a  subscription  for 
the  widows  of  these  poor  fellows,  I  put  down  my  name ;  so 
shall  my  wife,  so  shall  my  daughters,  so  we  will  all,  down 
to  the  baby ! " 

Merthyr's  name  was  shouted  first  on  his  return  to  Eng- 
land by  Mrs.  Chump.  He  was  waiting  on  the  platform  of 
the  London  station  for  the  train  to  take  him  to  Rich  ford, 
when,  "  Oh !  Mr.  Pow's,  Mr.  Pow's ! "  resounded,  and  Mrs. 
Chump  fluttered  before  him.  She  was  on  her  way  to  Brook- 
field,  she  said ;  and  it  was,  she  added,  her  firm  belief  that 
heaven  had  sent  him  to  her  aid,  not  deeming  "that  poor 
creature,  Mr.  Braintop,  there,  sufficient  for  the  purpose. 
For  what  I've  got  to  go  through,  among  them  at  Brookneld, 
Mr.  Pow's,  it's  perf  ctly  awful.  Mr.  Braintop,"  she  turned 
to  the  youth,  "  you  may  go  now.  And  don't  go  takin'  ship 
and  sailin'  for  Italy  after  the  little  Belloni,  for  ye  haven't  a 
chance  —  poor  fella !  though  he  combs 's  hair  so  careful,  Mr. 
Pow's,  and  ye  might  almost  laugh  and  cry  together  to  see 


486  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

how  humble  he  is,  and  audacious  too  —  all  in  a  lump.  For, 
when  little  Belloni  was  in  the  ship,  ye  know,  and  she 
thinkin',  'not  one  of  my  friends  near  to  wave  a  handker- 
chief ! '  behold,  there's  that  boy  Braintop  just  as  by  maguc, 
and  he  wavin'  his  best,  which  is  a  cambric,  and  a  present 
from  myself,  and  precious  wet  that  night,  ye  might  swear ; 
for  the  quiet  lovers,  Mr.  Pow's,  they  cry,  they  do,  buckuts- 
ful!" 

"And  is  Miss  Belloni  gone?"  said  Merthyr,  looking 
steadily  for  answer. 

"To  be  sure,  sir,  she  has;  but  have  ye  got  a  squeak  of 
pain?  Oh,  dear!  it  makes  my  blood  creep  to  see  a  man 
who's  been  where  there's  been  firing  of  shots  in  a  temper. 
Ye're  vary  pale,  sir." 

"  She  went  —  on  what  day  ?  "  asked  Merthyr. 

"Oh!  I  can't  poss'bly  tell  ye  that,  Mr.  Pow's,  havin' 
affairs  of  my  own  most  urrgent.  But,  Mr.  Paricles  has  got 
her  at  last.  That's  certain.  Gall'ns  of  tears  has  poor  Mr. 
Braintop  cried  over  it,  bein'  one  of  the  mew-in-a-corner  sort 
of  young  men,  ye  know,  what  never  win  the  garl,  but  cry 
enough  to  float  her  and  the  lucky  fella  too,  and  off  they  go, 
and  he  left  on  the  shore." 

Merthyr  looked  impatiently  out  of  the  window.  His 
wounds  throbbed  and  his  forehead  was  moist. 

"  With  Mr.  Pericles  ? "  he  queried,  while  Mrs.  Chump 
was  giving  him  the  reasons  for  the  immediate  visit  to 
Brookfield. 

"  They're  cap'tal  friends  again,  ye  know,  Mr.  Pow's,  Mr. 
Paricles  and  Pole ;  and  Pole's  quite  set  up,  and  yesterday 
mornin'  sends  me  two  thousand  pounds  —  not  a  penny  less ! 
and  ye'll  believe  me,  I  was  in  a  stiff  gape  for  five  minutes 
when  Mr.  Braintop  shows  the  money.  What  a  temptation 
for  the  young  man !  But  Pole  didn't  know  his  love  for  little 
Belloni." 

"  Has  she  no  one  with  her  ?  "  Merthyr  seized  the  oppor- 
tunity of  her  name  being  pronounced  to  get  clear  tidings  of 
her,  if  possible. 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes,  Mr.  Paricles  is  with  her,"  returned  Mrs. 
Chump.  "  And,  as  I  was  sayin',  sir,  two  thousand  pounds ! 
I  ran  off  to  my  lawyer ;  for,  it'll  seem  odd  to  ye,  now,  Mr. 
Pow's,  that  know  my  'ffection  for  the  Poles,  poor  dears,  I'd 


EMILIA'S  GOOD-BYE  497 

an  action  against  'em.  « Stop  ut,'  I  cries  out  to  the  nun :  — 
if  he'd  been  one  o'  them  that  wears  a  wig,  I  couldn't  ha* 
spoken  so  —  'Stoput,'  I  cries,  not  a  bit  afraid  of  'm.  I 
wouldn't  let  the  man  go  on,  for  all  I  want  to  know  is,  that 
I'm  not  rrooned.  And  now  I've  got  money,  I  must  hare 
friends ;  for  when  I  hadn't,  ye  know,  my  friends  seemed 
against  me,  and  now  I  have,  it's  the  world  that  does,— 
where'll  I  hide  it?  Oh,  dear!  now  I'm  with  you,  I  dent 
mind,  though  this  brown-faced  forr'ner  servant  of  yours,  he 

gives  me  shivers.     Can  he  understand  English? becas 

I've  got  ut  all  in  my  pockut ! " 

Merthyr  sighed  wearily  for  release.  At  last  the  train 
slackened  speed,  and  the  well-known  fir-country  appeared  in 
sight.  Mrs.  Chump  caught  him  by  the  arm  as  he  prepared 
to  alight.  "  Oh !  and  are  ye  goin'  to  let  me  face  the  Poles 
without  anyone  to  lean  on  in  that  awful  moment,  and  no 
one  to  bear  witness  how  kind  I've  spoken  of  'em.  Mr. 
Pow's !  will  ye  prove  that  you're  a  blessed  angel,  sir,  and 
come,  just  for  five  minutes  —  which  is  a  short  time  to  do  a 
thing  for  a  woman  she'll  never  forget." 

"Pray  spare  me,  madam,"  Merthyr  pleaded.  "I  hare 
much  to  learn  at  Richford." 

"  I  cann't  spare  ye,  sir,"  cried  Mrs.  Chump.  "  I  cann't  go 
before  that  fam'ly  quite  alone.  They're  a  tarr'ble  fam'ly. 
Oh !  I'll  be  goin'  on  my  knees  to  ye,  Mr.  Pow's.  Weren't  ye 
sent  by  heaven  now  ?  And  you  to  run  away !  And  if  you  re 
woundud,  won't  I  have  a  carr'ge  from  the  station,  which'll 
be  grander  to  go  in,  and  impose  on  'em,  ye  know.  Pray. 
sir !  I  entreat  ye ! " 

The  tears  burst  from  her  eyes,  and  her  hot  hand  clang  to 
his  imploringly. 

Merthyr  was  a  witness  of  the  return  of  Mrs.  Chump  to 
Brookfield.  In  that  erewhile  abode  of  Fine  Shades,  the  Nice 
Feelings  had  foundered.  The  circle  of  a  year,  beginning  so 
fairly  for  them,  enfolded  the  ladies  and  their  first  great 
scheme  of  life.  Emilia  had  been  a  touchstone  to  this  family. 
They  could  not  know  it  in  their  deep  affliction,  but  in  man- 
ner they  had  much  improved.  Their  welcome  of  Mrs. 
Chump  was  an  admirable  seasoning  of  stateliness  with  kind- 
ness. Cornelia  and  Arabella  took  her  hand,  listening  with 
an  incomparable  soft  smile  to  her  first  protestations,  which 


488  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

they  quieted,  and  then  led  her  to  Mr.  Pole ;  of  whom  it  may 
be  said,  that  an  accomplished  coquette  could  not  in  his  situa- 
tion have  behaved  with  a  finer  skill ;  so  that,  albeit  received 
back  into  the  house,  Mrs.  Chump  had  yet  to  discover  what 
her  footing  there  was  to  be,  and  trembled  like  the  meanest 
of  culprits.  Mr.  Pole  shook  her  hand  warmly,  tenderly, 
almost  tearfully,  and  said  to  the  melted  woman :  "  You're 
right,  Martha ;  it's  much  better  for  us  to  examine  accounts 
in  a  friendly  way,  than  to  have  strangers  and  lawyers,  and 
what  not  —  people  who  can't  possibly  know  the  whole  his- 
tory, don't  you  see  —  meddling  and  making  a  scandal ;  and 
I'm  much  obliged  to  you  for  coming." 

Vainly  Mrs.  Chump  employed  alternately  innuendo  and 
outcry  to  make  him  perceive  that  her  coming  involved  a 
softer  business,  and  that  to  money,  she  having  it  now,  she 
gave  not  a  thought.  He  assured  her  that  in  future  she  must; 
that  such  was  his  express  desire ;  that  it  was  her  duty  to  her- 
self and  others.  And  while  saying  this,  which  seemed  to 
indicate  that  widowhood  would  be  her  state  as  far  as  he  was 
concerned,  he  pressed  her  hand  with  extreme  sweetness,  and 
his  bird's-eyes  twinkled  obligingly.  It  is  to  be  feared  that 
Mr.  Pole  had  passed  the  age  of  improvement,  save  in  his 
peculiar  art.  After  a  time  Nature  stops,  and  says  to  us 
'  thou  art  now  what  thou  wilt  be.' 

Cornelia  was  in  black  from  neck  to  foot.  She  joined  the 
conversation  as  the  others  did,  and  indeed  more  flowingly 
than  Adela,  whose  visage  was  soured.  It  was  Cornelia  to 
whom  Merthyr  explained  his  temporary  subjection  to  the 
piteous  appeals  of  Mrs.  Chump.  She  smiled  humorously  to 
reassure  him  of  her  perfect  comprehension  of  the  apology  for 
his  visit,  and  of  his  welcome :  and  they  talked,  argued  a  little, 
differed,  until  the  terrible  thought  that  he  talked,  and  even 
looked  like  some  one  else,  drew  the  blood  from  her  lips,  and 
robbed  her  pulses  of  their  play.  She  spoke  of  Emilia,  say- 
ing plainly  and  humbly:  "All  we  have  is  owing  to  her." 
Arabella  spoke  of  Emilia  likewise,  but  with  a  shade  of  the 
foregone  tone  of  patronage.  "  She  will  always  be  our  dear 
little  sister."  Adela  continued  silent,  as  with  ears  awake  for 
the  opening  of  a  door.  Was  it  in  ever-thwarted  anticipation 
of  the  coming  of  Sir  Twickenham  ? 

Merthyr's  inquiry  after  Wilfrid  produced  a  momentary 


BMILIAS   GOOD-BYE 

hesitation  on  Cornelia's  part.  "He  has  gone  to  Verona. 
We  have  an  uncle  in  the  Austrian  service,"  she  said ;  and 
Merthyr  bowed. 

What  was  this  tale  of  Emilia,  that  grew  more  and  more 
perplexing  as  he  heard  it  bit  by  bit?  The  explanation 
awaited  him  at  Richford.  There,  when  Georgiana  had 
clasped  her  brother  in  one  last  jealous  embrace,  she  gave  him 
the  following  letter  straightway,  to  save  him,  haply,  from  the 
false  shame  of  that  eager  demand  for  one,  which  she  saw 
ready  to  leap  to  words  in  his  eyes.  He  read  it,  sitting  in 
the  Richford  library  alone,  while  the  great  rhododendron 
bloomed  outside,  above  the  shaven  sunny  sward,  looking  like 
a  monstrous  tropic  bird  alighted  to  brood  an  hour  in  full 
sunlight. 

"My  FRIEND! 

"  I  would  say  my  Beloved !  I  will  not  write  it,  for  it 
would  be  false.  I  have  read  of  the  defeat  Why  was  a 
battle  risked  at  that  cruel  place !  Here  are  we  to  be  again 
for  so  many  years  before  we  can  win  God  to  be  on  our  side ! 
And  I  —  do  you  not  know  ?  we  used  to  talk  of  it !  —  I  never 
can  think  it  the  Devil  who  has  got  the  upper  hand.  What 
succeeds,  I  always  think  should  succeed  —  was  meant  to, 
because  the  sky  looks  clear  over  it.  This  knocks  a  blow  at 
my  heart  and  keeps  it  silent  and  only  just  beating.  I  feel 
that  you  are  safe.  That,  I  am  thankful  for.  If  you  were 
not,  God  would  warn  me,  and  not  let  me  mock  him  with 
thanks  when  I  pray.  I  pray  till  my  eyelids  burn,  on  pur- 
pose to  get  a  warning  if  there  is  any  black  messenger  to  be 
sent  to  me.  I  do  not  believe  it. 

"  For  three  years  I  am  a  prisoner.  I  go  to  the  Conaerva 
torio  in  Milan  with  Mr.  Pericles,  and  my  poor  little  mother, 
who  cries,  asking  me  where  she  will  be  among  such  a  people, 
until  I  wonder  she  should  be  my  mother.  My  voice  has 
returned.  Oh,  Merthyr!  my  dear,  calm  friend!  to  keep 
calling  you  friend,  and  friend,  puts  me  to  sleep  softly  :  — 
Yes,  I  have  my  voice.  I  felt  I  had  it,  like  some  one  in  a  room 
with  us  when  we  will  not  open  our  eyes.  There  was  misery 
everywhere,  and  yet  I  was  glad.  I  kept  it  secret  i  pfll 
to  feel  myself  above  the  world.  I  dreamed  of  what  I  wouJ 
do  for  everybody.  I  thought  of  you  least !  I  tell  you  so,  and 


490  EMILIA   IN   ENGLAND 

take  a  scourge  and  scourge  myself,  for  it  is  true  that  in  her 
new  joy  this  miserable  creature  that  I  am  thought  of  you 
least.  Now  I  have  the  punishment ! 

"  My  friend !  the  Poles  were  at  the  mercy  of  Mr.  Pericles : 
Wilfrid  had  struck  him :  Mr.  Pericles  was  angry  and  full  of 
mischief.  Those  dear  people  had  been  kind  to  me,  and  I 
heard  they  were  poor.  I  felt  money  in  my  breast,  in  my 
throat,  that  only  wanted  coining.  I  went  to  Georgiana,  and 
oh!  how  truly  she  proved  to  me  that  she  loves  you  better 
than  I  do.  She  refused  to  part  with  money  that  you  might 
soon  want.  I  laid  a  scheme  for  Mr.  Pericles  to  hear  me  sing. 
He  heard  me,  and  my  scheme  succeeded.  If  Italy  knew  as 
well  as  1,  she  would  never  let  her  voice  be  heard  till  she  is 
sure  of  it :  —  Yes !  from  foot  to  head,  I  knew  it  was  impos- 
sible to  fail.  If  a  country  means  to  be  free,  the  fire  must 
run  through  it  and  make  it  feel  that  certainty.  Then — away 
the  whitecoat !  I  sang,  and  the  man  twisted,  as  if  I  had  bent 
him  in  my  hand.  He  rushed  to  me,  and  offered  me  any 
terms  I  pleased,  if  for  three  years  I  would  go  to  the  Conser- 
vatorio  at  Milan,  and  learn  submissively.  It  is  a  little  grief 
to  me  that  I  think  this  man  loves  music  more  deeply  than  I 
do.  In  the  two  things  I  love  best,  the  love  of  others  exceeds 
mine.  I  named  a  sum  of  money — immense  !  and  I  desired 
that  Mr.  Pericles  should  assist  Mr.  Pole  in  his  business.  He 
consented  at  once  to  everything.  The  next  day  he  gave  me 
the  money,  and  I  signed  my  name  and  pledged  my  honour 
to  an  engagement.  My  friends  were  relieved. 

"  It  was  then  I  began  to  think  of  you.  I  had  not  to  study 
the  matter  long  to  learn  that  I  did  not  love  you :  and  I  will 
not  trust  my  own  feelings  as  they  come  to  me  now.  I  judge 
myself  by  my  acts,  or,  Merthyr !  I  should  sink  to  the  ground 
like  a  dead  body  when  I  think  of  separation  from  you  for 
three  years.  But,  what  am  I  ?  I  am  a  raw  girl.  I  com- 
mand nothing  but  raw  and  nighty  hearts  of  men.  Are  they 
worth  anything?  Let  me  study  three  years,  without  any 
talk  of  hearts  at  all.  It  commenced  too  early,  and  has  left 
nothing  to  me  but  a  dreadful  knowledge  of  the  weakness  in 
most  people :  —  not  in  you ! 

"  If  I  might  call  you  my  Beloved !  and  so  chain  myself  to 
you,  I  think  I  should  have  all  your  firmness  and  double  my 
strength.  I  will  not;  for  I  will  not  have  what  I  do  not 


EMILIA'S  GOOD-BYE  491 

deserve.  I  think  of  you  reading  this,  till  I  try  to  git  to  yon ; 
my  heart  is  like  a  bird  caught  in  the  hands  of  a  cruel  boy. 
By  what  I  have  done  I  know  I  do  not  love  you.  Must  we 
half-despise  a  man  to  love  him  ?  May  no  dear  woman  that 
I  know  ever  marry  the  man  she  first  loves !  My  misery  now 
is  gladness,  is  like  rain-drops  on  rising  wings,  if  I  say  to  my- 
self '  Free !  free,  Emilia ! '  I  am  bound  for  three  years,  but 
I  smile  at  such  a  bondage  to  my  body.  Evviva  t  my  soul  it 
free !  Three  years  of  freedom,  and  no  sounding  of  myself — 
three  years  of  growing  and  studying;  three  years  of  idle 
heart !  —  Merthy  r !  I  throb  to  think  that  those  three  years — 
true  man !  my  hero,  I  may  call  you !  —  those  three  years  may 
make  me  worthy  of  you.  And  if  you  have  given  all  to  Italy. 
that  a  daughter  of  Italy  should  help  to  return  it,  seems,  my 
friend,  so  tenderly  sweet  —  here  is  the  first  drop  from  my 
eyes! 

"  I  would  break  what  you  call  a  Sentiment :  I  broke  my 
word  to  Wilfrid.  But  this  sight  of  money  has  a  meaning 
that  I  cannot  conquer.  I  know  you  would  not  wish  me  to  for 
your  own  pleasure ;  and  therefore  I  go.  I  hope  to  be  growing; 
I  fly  like  a  seed  to  Italy.  Let  me  drill,  and  take  sharp  words, 
and  fret  at  trifles !  I  lift  my  face  to  that  prospect  as  if  I 
smelt  new  air.  I  am  changeing  —  I  have  no  dreams  of  Italy, 
no  longings,  but  go  to  see  her  like  a  machine  ready  to  do  my 
work.  Whoever  speaks  to  me,  I  feel  that  I  look  at  them  and 
know  them.  I  see  the  faults  of  my  country  —  Oh,  beloved 
Brescians  !  not  yours,  Florentines !  nor  yours,  dear  Venice  I 
We  will  be  silent  when  they  speak  of  the  Milanese,  till  Italy 
can  say  to  them,  l  That  conduct  is  not  Italian,  my  children.' 
I  see  the  faults.  Nothing  vexes  me. 

"Addio!      My  friend,  we  will  speak  English  in  dear 
England!     Tell  all  that  I  shall  never  forget  England  I 
English  Merthyr !  the  blood  you  have  shed  is  not  for  a  woman, 
The  blood  that  you  have  shed,  laurels  spring  from  it 
woman,  the  blood  spilt  is  sickly  and  poor,  and  nounshe 
nothing.     I  shudder  at  the  thought  of  one  we  knew, 
makes  Love  seem  like  a  yellow  light  over  a  pugmqpn 
city,  like  a  painting  I  have  seen.    Good-bye  to  the 
Love  for  three  years  I     My  engagement  to  Mr. 
that  I  am  not  to  write,  not  to  receive  letters.    To  yoi  I 
now,  trust  me  for  three  years !    Merthyr's  answer  is  already 


492  EMILIA   IN  ENGLAND 

in  my  bosom.  Beloved !  —  let  me  say  it  once  —  when  thfc 
answer  to  any  noble  thing  I  might  ask  of  you  is  in  my  bosom 
instantly,  is  not  that  as  much  as  marriage  ?  But  be  under  no 
deception.  See  me  as  I  am.  Oh,  good-bye !  good-bye ! 
Good-bye  to  you !  Good-bye  to  England ! 

"lam, 
"  Most  humbly  and  affectionately, 

"  Your  friend, 
"  And  her  daughter  by  the  mother's  side, 

«  EMILIA  ALESSANDRA  BKLLONI." 


THE  EKD 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


Book  SlL. 


UCLA-CoU«fl«  Ubf«ry 

PR  5006  S21 1896 


L  005  728  311   1 


1  llll  .11  \ 

PR 

5006 

S21 


